Operation: Challenge
by PeaceBaby7
Summary: I felt the need to take on a writing challenge, so I found one on deviantArt. It gave me a list of one hundred prompts to write a one-shot for. For the next several months, I will write a series of unrelated short stories of various genres for each of the themes. *Most recent installment: "Tears," published 01.12.17*
1. Prompt 1: Introduction 01-18-15

**Note:** So, I was in the mood for a writing challenge, so I looked some up on deviantArt and settled on this one. Each chapter represents a different theme from the list given by the deviantArt page, which will be the chapter's title. Here are the rules:

**Pick a fandom: **_Penguins of Madagascar_

**Write a one-shot for each of the themes.**

**None of the chapters can be continuations of other chapters.**

**Try to be original, and no copypasta!**

**The one-shots do not have to be posted in the list's order.**

Here are some rules I've added for myself:

**I cannot work on more than one at a time. I can jot down ideas for other prompts, but the actual writing of the ficlets cannot begin until I've finished the previous one.**

**Each one-shot must be at least one hundred words but no more than one thousand. Hyphenated words count as one.**

**Interpretation of the theme may be literal or metaphorical.**

**They can be different realities, such as an alternate reality or humanized reality. If the chapter is anything but the original reality fans are used to, it should be indicated at the beginning of the chapter in a note. Furthermore, they can be in the past, present, or future.**

**They can be any genre, but none may contain any mature content.**

**If any contain pairings, it shall be indicated in a note at the beginning of the chapter.**

**No more than one can be written in a day.**

**They can be in any point of view.**

**Characters must be in character unless given a specific reason for the change (i.e. character went through a terrible ordeal, the character has to live with death, etc.).**

And so, my challenge begins. Dates written next to the titles indicate the date the one-shot was written. I will be posting at my own leisure.

_Introduction 01.18.15_

"Skipper," Kowalski called from the television.

Skipper came to his side and looked to the camera feeds. "What is it, soldier?"

"Looks like we're getting a new resident in our habitat," Kowalski said.

On the screen, Alice accepted a crate from the delivery truck and signed the paperwork.

"Why did we not figure this out before?" Skipper asked sternly.

"It's a last-minute transfer from the Chester Zoo in England. Commissioner McSlade attended a meeting in New York City with park coordinators around the world on ways to promote cleaner, more eco-friendly environments. Upon its closing, a representative from England announced that one of his employees found a penguin lost in Cheshire and saved him. They don't have any room for him at Chester Zoo, so he offered to sell it to one of the representatives. McSlade was the highest bidder. Even Alice didn't know about it until about an hour ago," Kowalski explained.

They watched as Alice picked up the crate and started heading toward their habitat.

"We'll arrange a transfer later. Let's get topside before Alice gets here," Skipper said.

They and Rico went topside and a moment later, Alice set the plank across the pool, bringing the crate across it.

"Here you go, your new habitat-mate," she said bitterly, pulling a small penguin from the crate and setting him down in front of them. They stared at the chick in surprise.

Alice grabbed the crate and left as the small penguin fiddled with his flippers shyly.

"H-Hello," he said in a soft British accent. "Wh-Who are you? Where am I?"

The penguins exchanged a glance. This little penguin couldn't be more than a few years old.

"Uh, we're—um," Skipper started, looking to Kowalski and Rico.

"I'm—Kowalski," Kowalski started. "You're in Manhattan."

The chick hesitantly turned away and looked over the tall buildings in the distance. Then he turned back to the penguins.

"What's going to happen to me here?" he asked, nervously glancing between the three of them.

Skipper slowly stepped up to the frightened hatchling and knelt down so he could meet eye level. "Do you know where you're from? We could help you find your parents," he said tenderly.

The young chick winced and looked down, as if someone had stuck him with a needle. "I don't have parents," he said softly. "I have an Uncle Nigel, but he isn't around much. He tried to put me in a zoo. He said I'd be safe there. I ran away because I was afraid. Someone found me and took me here."

Skipper looked at Kowalski and Rico. Then he looked back to the chick with a sigh.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"My Uncle Nigel always called me Private," the little penguin answered.

Skipper smiled warmly. "Okay, Private. How about you come down into HQ with us and we'll figure something out for you," he suggested.

Private furrowed his brow. "What's an 'HQ'?" he asked.

Skipper held out his flipper. "Come with me and I'll show you," he said, making eye contact, willing him to trust him.

Private stared at his flipper for a moment. Then he looked into his reassuring eyes and hesitantly took his flipper. Skipper gently closed his flipper around his.

"I'm Skipper, by the way," he said, leading him to the hatch.

"An' I Rico!" Rico said, appearing on the other side of him with a smile. Private recoiled in surprise.

Skipper pushed the fish bowl aside and stepped down onto the first rung, scooping Private into one flipper before descending. Kowalski and Rico dropped in behind him.

"This is our HQ," Skipper said as he set Private down.

Private looked around. There were three bunks carved into one wall, a table in the center made from a "Do Not Feed the Animals" sign and cinder blocks, a television in the far corner, a small fridge in another, and a door in the center of one wall that led to who-knows-what.

"Why don't you let Rico show you how the TV works and Kowalski and I will have a little talk?" Skipper said.

Private looked from Skipper to Rico, who grinned and scooped him up.

"Whoa!" Private cried. "O-Okay! Oomph!" he said as Rico trotted across the room and planted him in front of the television.

Skipper and Kowalski exchanged a humorous glance and went into the lab.

"What should we do, Kowalski? It's too dangerous to keep him here," Skipper asked his lieutenant.

"We could transfer him to another zoo," Kowalski suggested, "but what about his Uncle Nigel? He said he ran away. His Uncle must be worried out of his mind."

Skipper sighed and thought for a moment. "Do you think you can track down his Uncle? Maybe he'll come get him."

"I could try, but it won't be easy. It could take me a number of weeks," Kowalski said.

"But you think you can do it?" Skipper urged. "It's not safe for him here. He's too young."

"I agree. Yes, I think I can. What do we do in the meantime?" Kowalski asked.

"We have to keep him safe. We'll transfer him to the Bronx Zoo until we can find his Uncle. When we find him, we'll tell him that he's there, safe and sound," Skipper said with a nod, feeling as if this was for the best.

"All right. I'll get started on the paperwork and you tell Private what we've decided," Kowalski said. He opened the lab door and they froze at the threshold as they took in the scene.

Rico was running around HQ with Private on his shoulders, who was squealing in delight. Rico did little twirls and sometimes pulled him down from his shoulders and tossed him in the air only to catch him and throw him on his shoulders again. Skipper and Kowalski smiled at the sight.

"Actually, Kowalski," Skipper said as he watched them, "when you find his Uncle, tell him he's safe and sound right where he is."

**[Words: 999]**


	2. Prompt 2: Love 01-19-15

_Love 01.19.15_

**Note:** **The following installment is in Skipper's point-of-view.**

— § —

There is a price to pay when it comes to _love_.

If anyone knows that, it's me. No one truly knows how hard my job is. They think I make it look so easy. That's because I have to bury my emotions to make the hard decisions. I have to feel nothing. I can't cry, I can't feel pain, and I most definitely cannot let my anger alter my judgement.

Today, I lost two good soldiers. Manfredi and Johnson, my brothers in arms. And I hold myself accountable.

What many people don't realize is that war is a duty. The only real choice is whether you accept it, and what you fight for. Sometimes you have to make an impossible choice for the greater good. Even if that means someone you care about gets caught in the crossfire.

That's the problem with my job as leader. Everyone looks to me to make these choices. But I made a commitment when I took this job—a commitment to protect the innocents of the world. And because of that commitment, I have paid the ultimate price.

They were supposed to disarm a bomb that was set to detonate in Brooklyn, which was strong enough to take out about ten thousand people—innocent lives that didn't have a clue. But when they found it, they discovered it was on a vacuum lock. It would be extremely difficult to disarm. And it was counting down from seventeen minutes.

My demolitions expert, Rico, would've been able to disarm it in thirty seconds flat. But Manfredi and Johnson would've had to get to him first. My choice was this: Risk their taking the bomb to Rico and not make it, killing thousands anyway, or have Rico try to talk them through disarming it while taking it to the Hudson River, where if it happened to detonate, no one would be killed.

Except for them.

As much as I didn't want to, Manfredi and Johnson convinced me that the latter was for the best. They told me everything would be okay, and I let myself believe that. Deep down, I knew something would go wrong, but I couldn't let the lives of thousands pay the price for my selfishness. I told them to take the bomb to the Hudson River, and Rico and I would try to meet them there. Rico talked Manfredi through how to disarm it while both of us headed to the Gowanus Bay from opposite sides of the city.

But then Manfredi hit a problem. There was no way he could try to disarm the bomb with Johnson driving so fast, swerving around pedestrians and street corners. It would risk the possibility of releasing the vacuum lock and detonating the bomb. But they couldn't stop. If they weren't fast enough to disarm it, even with Rico talking them through it, it would still detonate. They had to get to the Hudson River and hope we beat them there.

We didn't.

They made it to the bay before we did by about a minute. But there was no time to wait. The timer was down to fifty-eight seconds. They hijacked a motorboat and road out to the middle of the river at top speed. Rico and I skidded to a halt at the bay just as the bomb detonated, sending water, smoke, and boat pieces up into the air. The shockwave probably caused a few injuries and knocked out some frequencies, but they had saved everyone.

We scoured the river for days, trying to find their bodies or anything that would indicate if they were truly dead. We couldn't find anything. They were just gone—the two bravest penguins I'd ever known.

The cruel irony? If I had told them to come straight through Prospect Park and meet us at Park Slope, we would've met them in time, and no lives would've been lost. But I made the harder decision for fear that something would go wrong.

I chose the people of Brooklyn over my own men—my own brothers.

So, how do I live with it? Here's the thing: Life is precious because it ends. You do the easy thing, the _appealing_ thing, and it usually goes wrong. But if you take the hard path, that is where you'll find reward. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something. You will never truly understand pain until you've sacrificed something that means everything to you. But you'll also never truly understand love until you have lost.

Love. No matter what form we're talking, whether romantic or brotherly, puppy love or utter infatuation, we have to ask ourselves what it's really all about. If you think love means something you would give the world for, or you think it means happiness for the rest of your life, then you're in for quite a ride.

Love is knowing what's best for yourself, what's best for that person, and what's best for everyone around you. Love is not something you can understand without first experiencing hurt. No, I don't mean your boyfriend left you for someone else or your best friend ever moved five thousand miles away. I mean that someone you've loved for years, someone you knew better than they knew themselves, someone you couldn't go a day without seeing, is someone you'll never see again. Ever.

If I would've risked bringing Manfredi and Johnson straight to me, and something went wrong and the bomb detonated anyway, no one would've won. They would've died for nothing, along with thousands of innocent people. But they died honorably, saving those lives, and they will forever be remembered for that.

Especially by me. Rest in peace, Manfredi and Johnson. Lord knows all those you have saved are.

**[Words: 954]**


	3. Prompt 3: Light 01-23-15

_Light 01.23.15_

Marlene laid against the dark, damp soil, nearly losing consciousness. The air was growing heavy and her breathing was becoming labored. She'd been underground for almost an hour now and was running out of oxygen. In the pitch black, she'd never felt more alone.

She and Private had left the zoo for snowcones. But when they got close, a human spotted them and they had to hide in a panic haste. Private sought refuge in a trashcan while Marlene dove into an abandoned foxhole. But the next thing she knew, the human ran across it in search of her and the vibration caused the loose soil to collapse, closing off the entrance, but thankfully not covering her completely.

When she tried to dig her way out, it started to collapse again, so she had to stop. She knew Private would come to her aid, or rush to find help. But it'd been so long, she'd decided that either Private had no idea where she was or what had happened to her, or had realized that digging her out could possibly cause it to collapse before they could get to her and had to think of something else.

While she was down there, she had a lot of time to just think. What else was there to do? She discovered that there were a lot of things that were left unanswered.

What was Skipper like before he became the leader of his quadrant of penguins? She knew he had a mysterious and "classified" past, but she wondered if he only said that because he didn't want to talk about it. Surely, not every detail of his life was classified. Did he ever love anyone? Why did he decide he wanted to be a militant leader?

Why did Mort have a fetish over Julien's feet? Mort had been that way since she'd met him, and while she thought it strange, she never really thought about why he had that obsession to begin with. However, she couldn't even begin to guess what that story was.

Why is Alice always such a grouch? If she hates her job so much, what's to stop her from quitting and finding something else to do? Marlene wondered if there was something that would make her happier. Perhaps a soulmate?

How did Rico obtain the ability to swallow almost anything and regurgitate it on command? She imagined it must've taken a lot of practice. But even with practice, how does one fit so much into such a tiny body?

Now that she was beginning to run low on oxygen, her thinking started to become hazy. Anything that she tried to think lost clarity and she became confused. Her head started to feel as if it was underwater.

Just past the haze of her thinking, she thought she heard a sound, followed by feeling dirt land on her stomach. If she hadn't become so disoriented, she may have panicked for fear that the hole was about to cave in. She cringed as light slowly started to pierce her vision from the side.

"_I found her! She's here!" _she heard a voice say. She couldn't tell who it was, but she knew it sounded familiar.

Someone grabbed her around the shoulders and waist and gently started carrying her through an opening in the side of the foxhole. They moved about five or six feet before sunlight flooded into view, along with figures that Marlene couldn't make out until her vision cleared. She was laid on the soft grass and she moaned.

"_Marlene? Marlene can you hear me?"_ she heard that same voice say. Four figures towered over her and they slowly came into view. It was the penguins. Skipper and Kowalski were wearing headlamps.

"Skipper?" she rasped. All that time in thinning oxygen made it feel as if someone had placed a box on her chest that was three times her weight.

"Yes, it's me, Marlene," Skipper responded. "You're going to be okay. We're taking you to HQ." He looked at Rico. "Give us a skateboard, Rico."

She heard Rico regurgitate what she assumed was Skipper's desired item. The penguins lifted her and placed her on the skateboard. Kowalski, Rico, and Private started pushing the skateboard as Skipper sat next to her, pulling her head up to his chest and holding her.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner, Marlene. Kowalski was afraid we'd make the hole collapse on you if we dug straight down, so we had to come in from the side. That made it harder to find you because the foxhole was so small. I promise you you'll be okay," he told her.

Marlene's mind slowly rose back to awareness as she took in more oxygen and she smiled up at him.

"It's okay, Skipper. I knew you guys would save me," she said. "I do have a question."

"Um, okay," Skipper replied, wondering what she could be wanting to ask at a time like this. "What is it?"

"Do you think Alice might find love one day?" she asked.

Skipper blinked a couple of times and looked at his men in alarm. "Doubletime, men! Marlene's lost more oxygen than we thought!"

**[Words: 867]**


	4. Prompt 4: Insanity 02-02-15

_Insanity 02.02.15_

**Warning: This chapter is rated T for some disturbing images. If you want to ask me what to expect in a PM, feel free to do so.**

— § —

"Boss," called a lobster minion as he approached the villainous dolphin, Dr. Blowhole. "Boss, we're—ready when you are," he said uneasily.

Dr. Blowhole grinned coldly and turned to him with a burning eye. "Excellent, Red One. Prepare the operating table," he purred.

The lobster swallowed and nodded, exiting without another word.

Blowhole looked back into the mirror, looking at the bandages around his right eye, his grin fading back into pure malice. It was _he_ who had done this to him . . . that _penguin_ that goes by . . .

. . . _Skipper_.

He was embarking on his first attempt at striking revenge against the dullard humans. Then _they_ showed up. Skipper and his team: Kowalski, Rico, and Private. He had laughed when he first met them. Four cute and cuddly penguins coming to foil his plan? It was ridiculous!

Only there was nothing cute nor cuddly about them.

They fought through his army of lobsters, shut down his entire operation, and had taken his eye out in the process. He had pinned down that damned penguin, Skipper, and had come close to killing him off when he grabbed a nearby pipe and sliced his eye. It had cut so deep that it had actually . . .

Well, let's just say jelly was involved, and not the type you put on toast.

He was going to make those penguins pay. He was going to show them what happens when you mess with Dr. Blowhole. They thought they knew anger? They thought they knew evil? Well, their world was about to get a whole lot darker. They had seen _nothing_ yet.

He wheeled himself into the operating room, where a few lobsters stood by to operate a machine that would secure his latest creation onto his useless eye. He used his flippers to push himself up onto the operating table and laid back.

"Um, Boss, are you sure you don't want the anesthetic?" one of the lobsters asked.

Blowhole stared back into the mirror at the foot end of the machine so he could watch everything that was happening.

"No," he answered coldly, "I want to see and _feel_ everything. I don't want to miss a single sensation," he said, grinning like a madman—probably because he was one.

The lobsters exchanged a nervous glance as Blowhole started undoing the bandages to reveal his sunken eyelid over the empty socket, dried blood surrounding it, and a scratch that cut diagonally across it. The lobsters kept themselves composed.

"Do it," Blowhole said, relaxing his body.

Taking a breath, two lobsters approached the table and started strapping him down: once at his tail, once at his waist, once at his chest, twice on each flipper, and once at his shoulders. One of the lobsters put a stick horizontally in his mouth as the other gently wiped away the dried blood with a damp rag. After stepping away, a lobster at the controls announced to stand clear and hit a button.

The machine whirred to life and the operating table raised to where it was nearly vertical. A set of metal claws lowered themselves toward Blowhole's face holding a thin device shaped in a nearly complete circle. It brought the piece over his head and adjusted it so the little hole at one end fit just over the eye socket.

Then a smaller metal claw moved forward and Blowhole used his anger and hatred for those infernal penguins to brace himself. The small black piece the claw was holding had a few wires sticking out of it, which another set of claws about the size of sewing needles prepared to grab.

Once it was mere millimeters from his eye, the small claws grabbed the wires and pulled them inside Blowhole's socket, connecting them to his optic nerve. Blowhole bit down hard on the stick and growled in pain. His entire body tensed as he growled louder and deeper, causing the lobsters to back up in fear.

Once it had finished connecting one set of wires to his optic nerve, the small claws connected another set to the headpiece. Finally, the claw holding the black piece snapped it into the headpiece and the claws retracted, the table laid back to its original horizontal position, and the machine silenced.

Blowhole let out another series of growls as his "eye" throbbed with pain. Once he started to calm down, the lobsters cautiously approached and undid his straps. Blowhole sat up, holding the eyepiece in pain. After it started to die down, he pulled the stick out of his mouth and gave it to one of the lobsters.

"Um," one of the lobsters said, finally working up the courage to speak after the horrifying display he'd just seen, "Boss, h-how are you feeling?"

Blowhole opened his good eye and slowly grinned. "I feel _amazing_," he purred. The lobsters exchanged a glance. Blowhole looked into the mirror. "Now let's see how this baby does."

He hit a button on the eyepiece and it started to burn red in the center. Slowly, he was able to see through that "eye," even though everything was colored red. He started to chuckle maliciously with wild eyes and the lobsters gulped.

"Excellent work, Red Ones. Now we plan _revenge_."

**[Words: 869]**


	5. Prompt 5: Sacrifice 02-09-15

_Sacrifice 02.09.15_

**Note: This chapter is humanized. It also contains character death.**

— § —

Kowalski took a shaky breath and stood before the guests seated in rows of fold-up chairs. Suppressed sobs punctured the silence.

"I'll be honest. When I was first told that Skipper had been killed, I nearly laughed," he said. The guests' expressions twisted in a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Not because it was funny, but because I'd always imagined Skipper would intimidate Death himself," he explained, almost smiling. The guests relaxed and exchanged glances as they realized how right Kowalski was. "Even now, I almost expect Skipper to pop out of his coffin and leave us wondering how he did it.

"When I first met Skipper, I thought he was insane," Kowalski continued. "The amount of effort he put into his elaborate plans to thwart evil was extraordinary. Sometime down the line, I realized . . . I was wrong. While his mind may have seemed twisted from the outside, he knew exactly how to navigate the inside. And he always came out on top. I'd always thought the key to understanding anyone's mind would take years of neurological research, but in recent years of knowing Skipper, I've discovered I was wrong about that too.

"It doesn't take logic or any sort of scientific studies to understand the mind. All you have to do is stop thinking and pay attention. There was one thing that always kept Skipper going: love. Love for his brothers in arms, his friends, the people of New York, his country, and the world. He was always willing to give his life for this love. I guess he's finally paid the ultimate sacrifice.

"You all knew Skipper as the strong, brave, hard-hearted leader. You knew him as a patriot, protector, and friend. But I knew him as a brother. He seemed strong and brave on the outside, but inside, he was petrified. Just stepping out of your apartment each morning was a risk. Anything could happen to any of us at any given moment, and there would've been nothing Skipper or anyone else could've done to stop it. That's what was always on Skipper's mind, and why he was always so paranoid. It's why he gave his life for all of us.

"When we went into this mission, Skipper told me that there was an envelope in his top dresser drawer. I asked him what was in it and why he wanted me to know about it. He replied, 'You'll know.' It wasn't until I received the message that he'd been killed did I realize what he meant. He'd known he was going to die, yet he went through with the mission anyway to protect us all. This morning, I found that envelope, and I would like to read it to you."

Kowalski pulled out a piece of paper from his inside breast pocket.

"Dear friends," he began. "If you're reading this, then I'm dead. But I want you to know that that's okay." He choked a little and cleared his throat. "I assure you all that I'm in a better place now. I've never really been one hundred percent sure what happens in the afterlife—well, no one does—but if I am looking down on you all right now, I don't want to see tears. If I do, I want you all to know that I'm slapping all of you and you just don't know it." Everyone laughed a little. The image of Skipper's ghost slapping all of them was too believable. Kowalski continued.

"Don't think of my death as losing a friend. Think of it as a lasting comfort knowing that you're all safe, and can live on to tell my story. I knew a long time ago that I would die protecting those I care about. However I died, I promise you I did so peacefully, knowing that my sacrifice would keep you all safe." Kowalski swallowed a lump in his throat and blinked back tears. "I don't want to see sad faces at my funeral. I want to see smiles because we had a great run together. Happy times, sad times, crazy times, you name it—and I am so honored to have known you all. Yes, even you, Julien."

Julien, who was in the front row, sobbed into Maurice's shoulder, who patted his back.

"If all else fails, remember this: even though I'm not physically there anymore, I'll always be with you all, in your hearts and memories. No one can ever take that from you. I love you all, and I hope to see you again in the very distant future. Signed, Skipper."

Kowalski tucked the letter back into his breast pocket. There was a silence that fell over the guests as they tried to contain their sorrows.

"Skipper's death was not in vain. We will always remember him for his greatest sacrifice above all else."

Kowalski returned to Rico and Private's side as the honor guard pulled the American flag from Skipper's coffin and held it tautly as a seven-man firing squad fired three volleys upon another officer's command. A bugler sounded _Taps_. Once they finished, the honor guard ceremonially folded the flag into a tight triangle. Then the honor guard briskly marched to Kowalski and handed him the flag.

"This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service," he said. Then he raised his right hand in salute before turning and marching back to his place.

Kowalski held the flag to his chest with one arm as he, Rico, and Private each knelt down and picked up a handful of soil and held it over Skipper's coffin. Slowly, they let the soil fall.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," they all said simultaneously.

They then watched as Skipper's coffin slowly receded into the ground. They raised a right hand in salute as they watched the bravest man they'd ever known return to earth in his final resting place.

— § —

**Note:** _Taps_ is a traditional song played at military funerals. You can find a sample of it on YouTube if you would like to listen to it.

**[Words: 998]**


	6. Prompt 6: Dream 02-13-15

_Dream 02.13.15_

**Note:** **Well, anyone who knows me had to know I was going to do a Skilene one eventually. Happy Valentine's!**

— § —

Unable to sleep, Skipper pulled himself topside for some fresh air. He had that nightmare again, the same one he'd been having every night for a week. He hadn't told anyone about it yet—partly because it was really disturbing him, and partly because he didn't want anybody worrying about him.

He ran his flippers over his face and knelt by the pool to look at his reflection. He could tell that he was tired with the circles around his eyes. The team had seemed concerned about him the past couple days, but they didn't say anything. Then again, they were probably waiting for a good time to ask. He'd been a little ill with them due to so little sleep.

A figure appeared next to him in the reflection and he turned around and tackled them to the ground without seeing who it was.

"Hey!" Marlene coughed as Skipper pinned her by the throat. "Calm down! It's just me!"

Skipper's eyes widened in surprise and he helped her to her feet. "I'm sorry, Marlene, but you know you shouldn't sneak up on me like that," he said.

"Duly noted," Marlene mumbled, rubbing her head. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Skipper said without meeting her eye. "What about you?"

Marlene took a breath. "I couldn't sleep either. I also had this weird dream," she said.

Skipper arched an eyebrow. "Really?" he said. "What about?"

Marlene hesitated and looked down.

"You can tell me anything, Marlene," Skipper said assuringly.

Marlene sighed and sat down at the edge of the island. Skipper sat next to her.

"I'm standing in Central Park, at night, and there's this little girl standing a few feet away holding a teddy bear. She turns to look at me and she smiles this . . . _weird_ creepy smile," she said with her face contorting in confusion and disturbance. "Then she starts chasing me and I make a break for this tree, but the faster I run, the further away it seemed. Then she caught me, and that's when I woke up."

Skipper looked at her empathetically. "I know how you feel," he said without thinking.

Marlene looked at him. "What do you mean? Have you been having weird dreams too?" she asked.

Skipper broke eye contact and looked at the water. Marlene scooted closer to him.

"You know you can tell me anything too, right?" she said softly.

Skipper hesitantly looked at her. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. "I've, um," he started slowly, "been having his recurring nightmare for about a week and I just can't shake it. I'm afraid it might be too—_intense_ for you," he said, looking away again.

Marlene knit her brows in concern. "That bad?" she asked softly.

Skipper turned his head back to her with serious eyes and nodded slowly. Marlene looked down at his flipper and gently took it in her paw.

"When I said you could tell me anything, I meant it," Marlene said earnestly. Skipper looked down at her paw and then into her eyes. She squeezed his flipper a little firmer. "Don't let this consume you. Tell me," she insisted.

Skipper sighed deeply and looked away. "Fine," he said, giving in. "At first, I'm in an upper floor of some building. It's dark. I start walking toward this closed door with a light shining under it. Just before I open it, it bursts open with huge flames engulfing the area around me. I can't find an opening to get out. Then I see my team on the other side of the flames, also trapped. I keep screaming to them, trying to get to them, but I can't. Then the flames reach them . . . and that's when I wake up." He hadn't realized he'd tightened his grip on Marlene's paw as he explained his dream.

"Wow," Marlene said after a few moments of silence had passed. "That's awful. You know it's just a dream?"

"Of course I do," Skipper replied, "but it still bothers me. I keep having the same dream and I don't know why. I'm not afraid of flames. And why would my mind want to imagine my team die over and over again?"

Marlene thought for a moment. "Maybe it has nothing to do with the flames, or your team dying," she suggested.

Skipper arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's about your fear of losing control, that something will happen and you won't be able to do anything about it."

Skipper looked at her and considered. "That—actually makes sense."

Marlene narrowed her eyes. "Not sure if I should be offended by that or not," she said with a smile.

Skipper smiled back. "You shouldn't. You're the smartest mammal I know, Marlene." For a moment, they maintained eye contact but broke away as the intensity grew. "I still don't know how I can go to sleep if I have that dream again."

"Well, sure you do," Marlene replied. "If you have the dream again, just stop thinking and control it. Extinguish the fire and stop being afraid."

Skipper looked at her again. Then he smiled. "I think I will. Thanks, Marlene."

Marlene smiled back. "No problem."

Skipper frowned. "What about your dream?"

Marlene shrugged. "Ah, it's nothing. It's probably just something to do with my phobia of humans picking me up," she answered with a laugh.

Skipper looked down at her paw gripping his flipper and vice-versa. Then he looked back into her eyes. "Why don't you stay with me for tonight?" he suggested softly.

Marlene looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," Skipper answered, "we could be here for each other if we have a bad dream again."

Marlene smiled. "Okay," she agreed.

Skipper scooted closer and wrapped his flipper around Marlene's waist and she rested her head on his chest, and he, her head.

"Good night, Skipper," Marlene said.

"Good night, Marlene," Skipper replied.

The two closed their eyes and didn't wake up until morning, their nightmares defeated.

**[Words: 995]**


	7. Prompt 7: Words 02-23-15

_Words 02.23.15_

**Note:** **My teacher gave us another creative writing assignment! This is what I'm submitting to her. The topic is a story that conveys two of the following themes: appearance versus reality, betrayal, manipulation/deception, jealousy, and hate. I chose pretty much all of them except jealousy. It's also humanized.**

— § ―

Thomas laid back on a cot with his arm crossed over his eyes. The sounds of arguing Danes in the neighboring cells and guards beating at their cell bars with their batons to try and quiet them filled the stale air.

He lay in silence, thinking to himself how stupid he had been. How gullible and vulnerable he had been. He gave his loyalty and his trust only to be betrayed in return—by the one person he thought was his brother. Now he was sitting on death row as an innocent man.

"Morning, Thomas."

Thomas looked up from his bunk to see the traitor on the other side of his cell door.

"Hans? What are you doing here?" he hissed as he sat himself up.

"I wanted to come see you before this evening," Hans replied with a calm smile, his thumbs tucked in his pockets.

Thomas scowled and stood up. "After _everything_ we've been through together—everything I've _sacrificed_ for you—and you stab me in the back," he growled as he approached the bars.

Hans pressed his lips together. "That's correct," he said nonchalantly, as if it meant nothing to him.

Thomas scoffed. "Why? What did I ever do to you?"

Hans frowned and leaned closer. "To me? Nothing. You talk about betrayal. Why don't you tell me a little more about your affiliation with the CIA?" he asked, gripping the bars.

Thomas knit his eyebrows. "CIA? What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that," Hans spat. "I heard the conversation you had with that man last week."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "If you're so sure, then why didn't you just take this to the Minister? Surely, that would've been enough to get me in the same place I am now."

Hans grunted humorously. "That would've been too easy. Planning your demise was much more fun."

Thomas grit his teeth. "I'm glad you had a good time," he growled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of waiting to do until they execute me later," he chided, turning toward his cot.

"Hey, now, I'm not finished," Hans said.

Thomas stopped and turned back. "What?"

Hans gestured for him to come closer. Feeling that he wouldn't go away until he did, Thomas obeyed.

"I know what I did was wrong," Hans started, "but I still see you as a friend. You're right, we've been through a lot together. Maybe one day we can look back and forget about this."

Thomas arched an eyebrow. "You mean in the afterlife?" he asked sarcastically.

Hans grinned and looked from side to side to ensure no one was watching. Then he pulled a pin from the lining of his jacket and handed it to him through the bars.

"In about one minute, the guards are about to become very distracted. Seize the moment and I'll take it from there," he said quietly.

Thomas looked at the pin as if it were a dead rat. "Why should I trust you?"

Hans laughed a little. "You'll just have to take my word for it."

"Your words mean _nothing_ to me," Thomas growled. "Give me one good reason I should do anything you say after you framed me for murder?"

Hans smiled lopsidedly. "That's a chance you've got to be willing to take. But you'd better take it now, because it's the last one you've got."

Thomas hesitantly took the pin and studied it. "I don't get it. First, we're friends. Then you frame me. Now you're helping me. Why?"

Hans shrugged indifferently. "Good question."

Thomas glared at him.

"See you on the flip side, Thomas," Hans said, turning on his heel and leaving him.

Thomas studied the pin for a moment. Then he sat down on his cot. There was a part of himself actually considering going through with whatever escape plan Hans had come up with. He was an innocent man in prison, and it was Hans' fault, so he should be the one to pull him out of it. But he also could be betraying him yet again. The next thing he knew, the alarms were blazing and the guards raced past his cell. It was now or never. He was a dead man either way, so why not?

He ensured there were no guards around and picked the lock to his cell. Then he raced down the corridor to face whatever lie ahead.

**[Words: 735]**


	8. Prompt 8: Water 02-27-15

_Water 02.27.15_

"Here we are, Private!" Uncle Nigel announced as he and Private arrived at the shoreline of Antarctica.

"Oh, what are we doing here?" Private asked, looking at his reflection in the water.

"You've just grown in your first set of waterproof feathers, my boy! It's time I taught you how to swim," Nigel said with a smile.

Private backed away from the water and wrapped his flippers around himself. "Are you sure I'm ready?"

"Aye! Of course I'm sure," Nigel said, kneeling next to him and putting a flipper on his shoulders. "This is an important milestone, my boy. You're growing up so fast." He smiled with pride.

Private shifted nervously on his feet. "Okay. Promise you won't let me go?" he asked sheepishly.

Nigel smiled. "I promise. Come now, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said, walking to the water's edge and diving in. He emerged a second later and held his flippers out to Private. "Hop in, Private! I've got you!"

Private skeptically stepped forward. "You'll catch me?" he asked weakly.

Nigel nodded. "I won't let you drown! Jump!"

Private took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then he jumped into the water into his Uncle's embrace. He shivered from the cold pinching his feet.

"It's cold!" Private cried, clinging to him.

Nigel chuckled. "Private, it's no colder than the snow you just came from. You'll get used to it. Now, take a deep breath and follow Uncle, okay?" he said, pulling him further from the shoreline. Then he pulled him under.

Private closed his eyes and gripped his Uncle's feathers in fear. Nigel pulled his flippers away and tipped his chin. Private hesitantly opened his eyes to see Nigel smiling down at him. He held one of his flippers and slowly swam through the water. Private tried to mimic his movements. Nigel smiled encouragingly and urged him forward.

After a couple minutes, Private started kicking his feet a little harder and flapped his flippers as if trying to fly through the water. He smiled up at Nigel as he started getting the hang of it. Nigel subtlely slowed down so Private would swim faster than him and he let go. Private glided forward through the water until he realized Nigel wasn't next to him anymore. He stopped and looked back. Uncle Nigel threw his flippers up in triumph.

Private smiled back. He swam! That wasn't so hard after all. He frowned when Uncle Nigel frantically started swimming toward him, gesturing for him to come to him in a frenzy. Private turned around and flailed his flippers in a panic as a leopard seal closed in on them, but that only slowed him down.

Nigel tried to call out to him under the water, but only bubbles spewed from his beak. He thought he'd brought Private to a more safe area of the ocean. Finally, he reached Private and scooped him into his flippers, gliding back in the direction whence he came with the leopard seal right at his feet. He made it to the shore and threw Private onto the ice just as the leopard seal grabbed his feet in its teeth and pulled him back under.

"Uncle Nigel!" Private cried, coming to the water's edge. He couldn't see them through the deep blue water.

The leopard seal thrashed in the water and Nigel broke free from its jaws. The beast prepared to advance, but Nigel was ready. It propelled forward and Nigel glided to the side to use the massive creature's weight against him as it moved past, unable to stop.

The leopard seal turned around and Nigel braced himself. With Private topside, he wouldn't have to worry about him seeing what took place here and thus owing him an explanation. The leopard seal thrust forward and Nigel ducked under him and pushed upward with all his strength, sending the beast into a loose block of rock that broke off and rapidly sunk down, taking the leopard seal with it.

Nigel watched for a moment to ensure the beast wouldn't break free. When it didn't, he nodded in satisfaction as if to say, _That's what you get for threatening my nephew._ He swam to the surface, where Private was sitting on the ice, crying into his flippers.

"Private?" he called softly as he pulled himself from the water.

Private looked up in shock. "Uncle Nigel!" he cried, getting to his feet and running to him. He threw his flippers around his belly. "I thought you were gone forever! I didn't know what to do! I was so scared!"

Nigel patted his back. "Everything is fine, Private. No one can hurt you now," he assured him in a soothing tone.

Private sniffed and buried his face into his Uncle's feathers. "How did you get away?" he said in a muffled voice.

"Don't you fret about that, Private," Nigel replied. He knelt down and made Private look him in the eye. "I am so sorry that happened. I thought we were safe here, and I was wrong. Maybe we'll wait a little longer before swimming again, just until I find somewhere safer."

Private looked down. "Oh, okay then," he said softly, trying to hide his disappointment.

Nigel furrowed his brow. "What's the matter, my boy?"

Private shrugged awkwardly. "Well, it's just that—I actually kind of _liked_ swimming with you. I was hoping that we could—do it again soon," he admitted.

Nigel's expression softened and he nodded apologetically. "You're such a brave boy. Things have been difficult since your parents passed. And here I am not even around most of the time. I'm sorry, Private. How about we go again tomorrow, hm?" he said with a smile.

Private smiled back and nodded excitedly. "Okay! I'll do even better than today!"

Nigel chuckled. "That you will." He hugged his nephew and looked back at the ocean over his shoulder. "I'll teach you everything you need to know."

**[Words: 991]**


	9. Prompt 9: Seeking Solace 03-08-15

_Seeking Solace 03.08.15_

**Note:** **This chapter contains implied Skilene.**

— § —

"Marlene?" Skipper called from behind her.

Marlene sat in the park, staring at her reflection in the pond. She looked in Skipper's direction, but couldn't meet his eye. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Skipper frowned. "Someone told me they saw you leave the zoo. I was worried. What's wrong?" he asked, sitting next to her.

Marlene glanced at him, afraid to answer. "It's nothing. I just came out here to think."

Skipper studied her. "Marlene, I know you. Something is troubling you. You know you can trust me, right?" he asked gently.

Marlene looked down. "Yes, I know. That's not—what I'm worried about," she said hesitantly.

Skipper knit his brows. "Marlene, you can tell me anything."

She looked at him. Then she bit her lip and looked away. "Well . . . you know how you just came back from that solo mission?"

Skipper nodded slowly. "Yes, why?"

"When you returned, I—accidentally heard you listening to your logs while you were filing the mission," she said quietly, looking at the grass. She felt him remove his flipper from her shoulder, but he didn't respond. She hesitantly turned to him. "Are you mad?" she asked sheepishly.

Skipper disregarded the question. "How much did you hear?" he asked, looking out across the water.

Marlene watched him carefully. "Enough. Like about how you would've died if you'd have been a second later. I didn't hear how. It—frightened me."

Skipper looked at her regretfully. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Marlene raised her brow. "That's it?" she asked irritably. "I just told you I know I nearly lost you, and all you have to say is '_I'm sorry'_?"

Skipper shook his head. "And you also just told me that you heard intel on a _classified_ solo mission. What do you want me to say? Sorry you were snooping around?"

Marlene got to her feet. "Who's snooping? It was an accident!"

Skipper stood up with her. "Look, I'm sorry you heard that, but I'm not sorry that I did what I had to to complete my mission. I don't know what else to say."

Marlene scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You can be really insensitive sometimes."

Skipper spread his flippers. "Insensitive? There aren't many ways I can butter up 'I almost died'! If that bothers you, you should listen to some of my other logs! I've been in a hell of a lot worse situations than that."

Marlene turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "Don't say that," she said, tears stinging her eyes.

"So you get mad when I say things are classified, but then you get even more upset when you hear the truth. I'm not seeing a winning side here," Skipper said, folding his flippers over his chest. "Marlene, you know what I do. I put myself in life-threatening situations all the time to _protect_ people like you. You should be grateful."

Marlene turned back to him. "It's hard to be _grateful_ when I'm sitting around praying you won't come home in a body bag," she said in a shaky voice.

Skipper sighed and looked away. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to stop doing my duty," he said.

"I'm not trying to ask you to stop doing your duty, Skipper," Marlene choked. "I'm asking you not to leave me."

Skipper watched as a tear trailed down her cheek. He exhaled. "Marlene," he said softly, "I could tell you that I never would, but that would be a lie. I can't deny that one day, the mission I go on will be my last. I wish I could bring you that kind of comfort, but I can't promise that I'll always come back in one piece. I _can_ promise that I'll keep you safe until I don't."

Marlene shook her head and turned away. Skipper stepped behind her and put a flipper on her shoulder and she turned back and smacked it away, but Skipper stepped forward and tried to wrap his flippers around her to comfort her. She resisted at first but finally relaxed into Skipper's embrace. He gently stroked her back.

"Marlene, you never had this much of a problem with it before. What's so different about now?" he asked over her shoulder.

Marlene gripped his feathers and buried her face into his chest. "Because hearing the words made it more real. I don't want to lose you."

Skipper looked down at her. "I never knew you cared so much," he said quietly.

"Of course I care, you clueless idiot," Marlene said in a muffled voice.

Skipper smiled slightly. Then he tilted Marlene's chin. "I'll always protect you, Marlene," he said. "Whether you hate me for it or not doesn't matter at this point. I just care that you're safe."

Marlene grunted and pushed him away, turning her back on him. "Dang it, Skipper! Why do you have to be so selfless?"

"I prefer 'heroic,' but selfless works too," Skipper said. Marlene rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh. "What? I'm kidding!" he protested with a laugh. Marlene didn't respond and Skipper sighed as he wrapped his flippers around her from behind. "It's your fault, you know," he said.

"What?" Marlene asked defensively.

Skipper smiled. "You're one of the few that give me a _reason_ to fight."

Marlene arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

Skipper looked down and fiddled with Marlene's paws, which she'd rested over his flippers. "You remind me that there is good in the world if you look in the right places. That's what I fight for. If no one fought off the evil, those like you would just . . . disappear."

Marlene looked down for a moment, and then looked at Skipper. Then she turned into his embrace and kissed him on the cheek. "The world needs more people like you."

Skipper shook his head. "No, Marlene. The world needs more people like _you_."

**[Words: 994]**


	10. Prompt 10: Dying 04-04-15

_Dying 04.04.15_

**Note:** **This installment is humanized.**

— § —

Skipper sat in the emergency room waiting area, his face in his hands, as he waited for the doctor to come back with news. His college roommate and best friend, Kowalski, sat next to him, wishing he could think of something to say to bring him comfort. They'd been waiting there for almost an hour. Finally, a surgeon stepped out of the operating room, her hands and arms wet after scrubbing out. She pulled her face mask under her chin.

"Mr. Guin?" she inquired toward Skipper, who stood.

"Yes. How is she?" he asked, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.

"I'm Doctor Sullivan. Your mother has suffered serious head trauma," the surgeon explained regretfully. "She is bleeding from the brain. It's minor but still fatal. We need your permission to operate," she explained.

"Of course," Skipper said without hesitation. Sullivan held up a hand.

"Before you make your final decision, I need to tell you the risks of the operation," she said. Skipper swallowed and nodded. "Your mother is—old. Without the surgery, she might live a long while before passing on. However, she will slowly deteriorate in that time, and likely do nearly nothing but sleep, not even eat. She'll likely experience many splitting headaches as well. If we do operate, there's a chance we could save her, but I'm afraid it's rather slim. There's a high chance she'll die during the operation," she explained.

Skipper nodded and broke eye contact. Sullivan pressed her lips together.

"I'll give you a few moments to make a decision," she said before turning and leaving him.

Kowalski put a hand on his shoulder from behind. "Skip, I'm . . . I'm so sorry," he said softly.

Skipper cringed and shook his head. "It's my fault. If I'd have been there, I could've—done something," he said, running his hand over his face.

Kowalski gripped his shoulder tighter. "No, Skipper, you couldn't have known. She could've just as easily fallen down the stairs if you had been there. It's not your fault."

Skipper pinched the bridge of his nose. "So my only options are let my mother suffer for who knows how long, or let her die now on the operating table. Doesn't seem very fair." He opened his eyes and looked at the doors to the operating room as if he could see his mother beyond them. "She always told me life isn't fair."

Kowalski looked at him sympathetically. "So, what are you going to do?" he asked quietly.

Skipper looked at him, and then at Sullivan across the waiting room making notes on a chart. Without answering, he went to her.

"Doctor," he called softly from behind. She turned and set her chart aside.

"Yes, sir?" she replied. "Have you come to a decision?"

Skipper looked down at the floor. "The surgery," he started, "will she feel anything?" he asked slowly.

Sullivan put her fingers in her coat pockets with her thumbs hanging out. "No. She'll be sedated. If we successfully stop the bleeding, she'll only experience some headaches for a little while, and will be very tired for a week or so. And—if she doesn't make it, it'll be just like dying in her sleep," she explained as she studied him.

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "Do the surgery," he said without making eye contact. Doctor Sullivan nodded and turned to retrieve the consent papers, but Skipper put a hand on her shoulder. "Can I—have a moment alone with her first?" he requested.

Sullivan nodded sympathetically. "Of course. But she's still sedated, so she may not realize you're there," she told him. Skipper nodded and Sullivan led him to the ICU, where his intubated mother was unconscious in bed. Sullivan left him and Skipper gently sat on the side of the bed. He took her hand.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that everything will be okay. The doctors are going to take good care of you. I promise." He swallowed and looked at her hand in his. "You've always taken good care of me, no matter what. It's my turn to return the favor. I know it's long overdue, and I'm sorry. But I'm going to now. And I promise I'll make you proud." He looked back at her peaceful face as she slept. He picked up her hand and gently kissed it. "I love you, mom."

A nurse entered the room with a team ready to take his mother for emergency surgery. "We need to get her to the operating room, Mr. Guin."

Skipper nodded. He looked at his mother once more and leaned over her to kiss her on the forehead. "Thanks for everything," he whispered. He stepped away and watched as the team wheeled his mother away as he signed the consent papers.

That was the last time he saw her alive.

**[Words: 813]**


	11. Prompt 11: Eyes 04-08-15

_Eyes 04.08.15_

**Note:** **This may contain spoilers for the _Penguins of Madagascar Movie_.**

— § —

Dave the octopus grinned as he picked up a _ping_ on his sonar in his submarine. Just as he'd expected.

He turned to one of his octopus henchmen. "Will Smith have my cages ready?" he asked.

The henchman mumbled a response in octopus speak.

Dave smiled. "Excellent. Tell the others to get in position," he ordered. The henchman saluted with a slimy tentacle and hurried off.

Dave slithered out of the room to his large storage room, where all the penguins from zoos and aquariums around the world were caged. They silenced and shrunk in fear when they saw Dave enter with a pair of henchmen and a cart. They came to the lone cage in the center of the room, where a small penguin slept, confident that a certain trio of penguins would come rescue him and foil Dave's evil plans.

"Morning, Private," Dave said, reaching through the bars of the cage and poking his beak. Private woke up and wiped off the slime Dave left behind. He swallowed as Dave's henchmen picked his cage up and loaded it onto the cart.

"Where are you taking me?" Private asked, getting to his feet.

Dave followed behind as the henchmen pushed his cart forward. "Well, I was just hoping to congratulate you! Your brothers _are_ coming here, right this very moment! Isn't that _exciting_?" he said happily.

Private's expression hardened with determination. "I wouldn't be so happy if I were you! I know they have a plan that you'll never see coming!"

Dave chuckled. "Aw, aren't you so _cute_!" he taunted. "How do you—and more importantly, _they_—know that I don't have my _own_ genius plan that none of _you_ will see coming? Hm?"

Private frowned but swallowed his doubt. He wasn't going to let this demented octopus try to convince him that his team couldn't beat him. They were better than that.

They came to a stop by a metal table with straps hanging limply to the sides. Dave's ray was a few yards away, along with a few henchmen ensuring everything was in order. Dave opened the cage and pulled Private out with a slimy tentacle and a grin.

"Let go of me! What are you doing?" Private said, struggling.

Dave held him on the table as his henchmen firmly strapped him down. "Well, once I have your friends, I thought I'd give them a little demonstration of what my Medusa Serum will do," he said.

Private looked at his ray and swallowed. "You don't have to do this," he said softly with his best pair of puppy-dog eyes.

Dave thought for a moment—or at least pretended like he did. "Yeah, I guess I don't," he said thoughtfully. Then he leaned in close to Private's face. "But I am anyway!" he said before erupting into laughter.

Private frowned. Dave wiped a happy tear from his eye and looked at him.

"Aw, don't be sad. Things will work out!" he encouraged. "Well, for me anyway," he added.

"Dave," Private started, "I know what happened to you was horrible, but you can't take it out on innocent creatures!"

Dave's expression hardened. "Oh, but I can," he said through his teeth. "All I ever wanted was to be loved. And I was! Until _you_—" he prodded him with his tentacle— "took it all away."

Private looked into Dave's eyes—his tired, vengeful, hurting eyes. He was just an empty soul with a blackened heart—well, _hearts_. The pain he harvested inside him seemed to ignite his red eyes with a burning fire kindled with hatred.

"But, Dave," Private said slowly, "it's not too late to be loved."

Dave scowled. "No one could ever love me," he said as he turned away and started back for the conning tower.

"I would," Private called after. Dave stopped and turned back, looking at Private incredulously. "Just let the penguins go, Dave," Private pleaded. "We'll start things over. What do you say?"

Private waited in anticipation as Dave studied the floor. Then he scowled and turned back to him.

"No. I've worked too hard to get this far. You took everything from me, and now I'm taking everything from _you_," he growled into the little penguin's face. He looked past him at a henchman that was checking the ray over. "Jim, carry out Phase One of our plan. Our special guests will be arriving soon," he ordered before he turned and left without another word.

Private whimpered softly. "Come on, guys," he whispered. "I know you won't let me down. I just know it."

— § —

**Note:** Technically, octopuses don't have "tentacles"; rather, they're called "arms." I just thought it sounded awkward to say things like, "Dave opened the cage and pulled Private out with a slimy _arm_ and a grin." Also, they have three hearts, in case you were confused by the making it plural.

**[Words: 761]**


	12. Prompt 12: Teamwork 04-25-15

_Teamwork 04.25.15_

**Note:**** This may contain spoilers for the _Penguins of Madagascar Movie_. The inspiration for this came from RC2012's, _Retreat or Rescue_.**

— § —

The North Wind agents had successfully escaped Dave's submarine and were discreetly moving through New York in search of a payphone or some other way to contact the NW headquarters, since Dave had taken all their communication devices. Luckily, not many people were around since most had gone to see the arrival of the "found" penguins. Finally, they found one near a bus stop. Agent Classified picked up the phone and started punching in the long code that would patch them through.

Eva landed on top of the booth and pushed the switch hook. "Wait," she said.

"Eva, what is it?" Classified asked irritably.

Eva looked away and pointed her wing across the street. "Look."

The agents looked over to see televisions of various sizes displayed in a store window. It was showing a news broadcast of west Manhattan, where a horrifying scene was unfolding. The agents ran over and watched from the sidewalk.

"_. . . are on the scene rounding up the hideous creatures," _the reporter was saying. "_Panic and confusion has riddled the streets—are _these _the penguins Dr. Octavius Brine found? The question on everyone's mind now is: What has happened to them, and what will?"_

The reporter continued as the channel viewed the barrage of mutant penguins chasing humans, cats, dogs, and whatever else they could find. The agents turned to each other.

"We need to get that equipment _now_," Classified said. He took a step back toward the payphone, but Corporal braced his big bear paw on his shoulder.

"Wait, we can't just wait here and do nothing! Those penguins need us!" he said.

"But we have no gear!" Classified argued. "How can we help if we're unarmed and unprotected?"

Eva landed on Corporal's forearm. "I agree with Corporal. We are North Wind agents. What was the first thing we learned when we started training?" she asked.

Classified thought for a moment. "Well, I recall first learning how to break into a high-security facility with nothing but a fountain pen and my wit," he said with a suave smile.

Eva rolled her eyes. "No, we were taught that we could help other animals. That's the reason we joined North Wind in the first place. Tell me, who saved us when we were at Dave's mercy?" she asked sternly.

Classified shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like admitting he'd been 'saved.' "Private," he answered quietly.

"And what would have happened if he had taken the time to worry about having no fancy gadgets or equipment?" Eva inquired.

Classified didn't respond.

"Eva is right," Corporal cut in. "We have to go back."

"I agree," Short Fuse concurred.

"As far as I can see," Eva continued, "the penguins have never used any high-tech gadgetry. Tell me, why are we so limited?"

Classified met each of their gazes and settled on Eva. "You had me at 'no fancy gadgets or equipment,'" he said with a prideful smile. "Let's go save those penguins."

The other agents smiled and nodded in agreement. Then they looked back down the street and frowned.

"The penguins are all the way across town," Corporal observed. "How will we get there in time?"

Classified looked around. A few hundred feet down the street, he saw an ice cream truck sitting idle on the curb. He grinned.

"Don't worry," he said, narrowing his eyes in thought, "I have an idea."

**[Words: 559]**


	13. Prompt 13: Mischief Managed 05-06-15

_Mischief Managed 05.06.15_

**Note:** **This is kind of Skilene, depending on how you look at it. Was it a legit joke or a test? You be the judge.**

— § —

Skipper approached Marlene's habitat with a grin. Kowalski had pulled this one over on him just a short while ago, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Marlene's face when he tricked her too.

"Knock, knock," he called as he entered Marlene's cave.

"Hey, Skipper," Marlene called back. "You never knock," she observed. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," Skipper replied. "I just wanted to ask you something."

Marlene arched a curious brow. "Okay, hit me."

"I was just wondering if you wanted a Kiss," Skipper asked casually, as if it were just an ordinary question.

Marlene blinked and her smile faded. "Run that by me again," she said, stiffening.

"Do you want a Kiss?" Skipper asked again.

Marlene felt her face flush and looked at the ground. "Um . . . I—why?" she asked carefully, looking at him again.

Skipper looked surprised. "Because I'm nice?" he suggested.

Marlene laughed nervously. "Well, yeah, but that's kind of—sudden, don't you think?"

"What could be sudden about Kisses?" Skipper asked peculiarly. "Everyone loves Kisses."

"Well, I think they usually get to know each other a little better first," Marlene said carefully.

"Marlene, I think we've known each other more than long enough to share some Kisses without anything getting weird," Skipper replied nonchalantly.

Marlene spread her hands incredulously and started scratching the back of her neck. "Skipper, I—didn't even know you felt this way. But this is still _really_ fast. I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Skipper sighed. "All right, suit yourself. More for me, then," he said with a shrug. Watching Marlene, he pulled a Hershey's Kiss from behind his back and acted like he was about to unwrap it. Marlene's jaw fell open and she buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed, looking back up. "You are so _dead_!" she said, advancing with her paws clenched in fists.

Skipper tossed the Kiss on a nearby shelf and caught her arms to hold her back as he started laughing uncontrollably.

"I can't believe you just did that to me!" Marlene said half-angrily, half-humorously. "You knew _exactly_ what I'd think!"

"That was the point!" Skipper said between laughs as he struggled with Marlene. Finally, she backed off with a frustrated grunt. "Come on, Marlene. It was a joke!"

"No, I'm mad at you now," she said with an unconvincing smile as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Skipper humorously rolled his eyes and grabbed the Kiss from the shelf. "Do you want it or not?" he asked with a sincere smile.

Marlene glanced at it and sighed. Looking away, she held out her paw. "Fine. But I'm still mad at you."

Skipper chuckled and placed the treat in her paw. As Marlene unwrapped it, she curiously glanced at Skipper.

"I need to ask you something," she said, popping the Kiss into her mouth.

Skipper arched a brow. "What?"

"What would you have done if I'd said yes?"

— § —

**Note:** The inspiration for this came from GrandOldPenguin's "Want a Kiss?" from his "One Hundred Days of Drabbles," and is actually a bit of a continuation of it. Thanks for letting me use the idea, and giving me feedback!

**[Words: 493]**


	14. Prompt 14: Mother Nature 05-12-15

_Mother Nature 05.12.15_

**Note:** **This installment is Rated T for intensity and one mild curse word.**

— § —

"Skipper, you think we should start heading home?" Private asked. "Those clouds look awfully nasty," he observed, looking up at the sky.

Skipper glanced out the window. Massive dark clouds rolled across the sky as thunder sounded in the distance. "I agree. Let's leave a tip and go."

The two grabbed the bag of snacks to take back to HQ, where the team planned on watching a game. After leaving a twenty by the register, they went out to the car, tossed the goods in the backseat and started back for the Central Park Zoo. Thankfully, they'd anticipated the rain and Rico had made a temporary roof just in case.

It didn't take long for the rain to start pouring down and it became difficult to see, so Skipper had to drive slowly. It wasn't as if he had a choice—the small car had to fight through about three inches of water. It slowly drifted down the sidewalk next to the traffic-filled streets.

"It's coming down really rough," Private said observantly.

"I noticed," Skipper said irritably. If he could just get to the end of this block he could take a shortcut through Central Park.

When the car reached the bottom of the decline, he hit the breaks, but the car merely turned one-eighty and the current dragged them across the luckily empty street. Skipper reached over and held Private back as they hit the opposite curb, the momentum causing the car to tip and roll over a few times. Both blacked out for a second, but thankfully, neither of them were hurt and both regained consciousness.

"Private, are you okay?" Skipper asked breathlessly.

"I'm fine—you?" Private replied.

"I'm okay," he said, realizing the car was on its side. "We need to flip the car over."

"Aye," Private replied.

The two of them climbed out and pushed the car onto its wheels. Then the soaking penguins climbed back in. But when Skipper stepped on the gas, he realized they were stuck in a pit of mud. He groaned.

"Take the wheel," he instructed. "I'll go out and try to get us unstuck."

As Private slid into the driver seat, Skipper walked around to the back of the car and started to push. Private stepped on the gas and the wheels turned with zero traction and mud sprayed everywhere. Skipper cursed under his breath as thunder cracked overhead. He dug his feet into the mud as much as he could and pushed again. This time, the car pulled out of the mud with such force that Skipper fell face-forward into the mud as the car moved ahead. When he got to his feet and shook the muck from his vision, he looked up to see that the car had disappeared. Furrowing his brow, he squinted through the wall of water and saw that the park sloped downward. He pulled himself forward in a panic and looked down to see the car plummet into the pond.

"Private!" he screamed, but his words were carried away and lost in the wind. He leapt onto his stomach and slid down, not even stopping before propelling himself into the water. It was so dark he found it difficult to see, but a flash of lightning illuminated the car a few yards down. He plunged deeper into the water and found the door. He desperately knocked at the window hoping for a response, but it appeared that Private was unconscious. At least, that's what he prayed. He tugged at the door handle as hard as he could, but the pressure was uneven on either side of the door—it was impossible.

The car finally hit the floor of the pond and Skipper searched for something he could use to break the window. He found a large rock and struck the windshield until it broke. Disregarding the sharp glass, he used his flipper to knock shards out of the way as he reached in and felt for Private's flipper. With relief, he found it and pulled him out, and then carried him to the surface. He gasped for air when he reached the top and pulled Private onto the bank.

"Come on, Private," he said, slapping his face. He listened to his chest and panicked when there was no response. He started pumping his chest. "Come on! Wake up, you Nancy-cat!" he cried desperately. He pumped air into his lungs and restarted compressions.

After a couple of minutes, it seemed helpless. This was all his fault. He didn't even know they were about to go downhill because of the blinding rain. _Damn Mother Nature!_ he thought. _You can't have him! He's just a boy!_

Finally, Private sputtered water and Skipper turned him onto his side. The rain continued to bore down on top of them, but Skipper was almost grateful because it helped hide the tears streaming down his face.

"Private, are you okay?!" he called over the howl of the wind and the ferocious tidal wave from above.

"I think so . . . what happened?" Private said, sitting up.

"The car went into the pond. It's my fault! I'm so sorry!" Skipper said, wrapping his flippers around the younger penguin. He almost lost him.

Private hugged back. "It's okay! You couldn't have known! We need to get back to HQ!"

Skipper nodded in agreement. "Come on! Stay next to me! We can't separate!"

They locked flippers and fought their way through Central Park, and finally dropped into HQ, which was empty.

"Where are the others?" Private asked, shutting the hatch.

"They probably sought refuge in the Zoovenir Shop with the other zoosters," Skipper suggested.

Private looked at Skipper and filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Skipper didn't respond for a moment. Then he looked at him and forced a smile. "I'm fine. Why don't we dry up and we'll play chess or something?"

"What about the others?" Private asked.

Skipper shrugged. "We'll catch 'em later."

**[Words: 989]**


	15. Prompt 15: Fairy Tale 05-24-15

_Fairy Tale 05.24.15_

Skipper gripped the bars of his cage as Hans stood boastfully on the other side.

"All right, puffin," he said, scowling, "you got me. What's your plan this time?"

Hans smiled. "Why the rush?" he asked. "Can't we talk?"

Skipper arched a brow and narrowed his eyes. "Talk? As in the exchange of words?"

Hans rolled his eyes. "That's typically the definition of _talk_, Skipper."

Skipper studied him carefully. "What about?"

Hans turned around and headed back to a control table under a large screen. "Do you remember when we were children, Skipper?" he asked calmly.

Skipper grimaced and glared at him. "Like a bell. Why?"

Hans hit a button and an image appeared on the screen. It was of him and Skipper at a young age, celebrating a successful mission. Skipper looked at it with disgust.

"What's your game here, Hans?" he asked suspiciously.

Hans faced him and leaned back against the control table. "Don't you remember that mission? I believe I recall saving your life."

"You know that's based on a technicality," Skipper argued, gripping the bars tighter. "What's your point?"

Hans smiled. "I'm getting to it." He hit another button. Another image displayed him and Skipper as children, on their first day of training. "Aw, look at us. We were so tiny!"

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Just get to the point, Hans."

Hans sighed irritably. "What? You don't want a trip down memory lane?"

"I'll kick your tail feathers down memory lane," Skipper replied crossly.

Hans approached his cage. "What's the matter? Did you forget about the good ol' days?" he asked tauntingly.

"First of all, that was almost thirty years ago. Second, there was nothing 'good' about any of those days. You and your twisted mother accepted me into your family with nothing but deception and lies," Skipper growled.

"Well, if you're so big on technicalities, we only told one lie, which was about what happened to that silly little village of yours. And I didn't even know it was a lie until I was a teenager. But everything else, that was no lie. We weren't just friends, Skipper. We were brothers," Hans explained.

Skipper didn't break eye contact. "Emphasis on the _were_. And if we were such great 'brothers,' why did you frame me?"

Hans' expression hardened. "Because you left me for dead when you found out the truth. You never even tried to hear my side of the story or mend our relationship. You took everything I had away!"

"Well, then I guess you got your revenge already!" Skipper said, slamming his fist into the bars. "You got your revenge that night at the Ministry of Open-Faced Sandwiches! What more do you want from me?" he asked as he weighed his chances of ripping out one of the cage bars and smacking Hans with it.

Hans' expression softened. "Aw," he mocked. "You still miss her."

Skipper glared at Hans, but he didn't respond.

"Anyway," Hans said nonchalantly, "what I'm getting at is a proposal."

"Not interested," Skipper replied without hesitation.

"You haven't even heard it yet!" Hans protested. "I'm willing to put everything behind us. I really think we can be brothers again, just like—" he glanced longingly at the picture on the screen— "the good ol' days."

Skipper looked as if he'd just been punched in the gut. "You _really_ believe I'm just going to put everything behind us so we can be friends again? Foremost, I don't trust that this is a genuine proposal without a catch for an instant. Even if it was, I'd rather drink Number 12 than agree to such a cockamamie reconciliation as that."

Hans folded his flippers over his chest. "Really, Skipper? Not even for your own brother? We grew up together. We can have that again."

"You're not my brother," Skipper replied. "My brothers are back at home, waiting for me to return from this seemingly pointless solo mission that was obviously a waste of my time. Do you even have an evil plan?"

Hans sighed impatiently. "What I want is a truce. We set aside our differences and be chums again. I just don't understand what's so hard to understand about that. That was years ago. I've let go. Why haven't you?"

"What kind of fairy tale are you living in?" Skipper asked indignantly. "I will _never_ let go. All you had to do was find me and we could've worked things out! You didn't have to—to—" Skipper gripped the bars and looked at the ground, fighting to push the memory from his mind.

"I don't believe that for a second," Hans said. "You came to the Ministry that night to lock me up forever. You wouldn't have brought that little _klaphat_ if you weren't."

"Don't talk about her that way, you son of a leopard seal!" Skipper yelled through the bars. "I swear if I get my flippers on you, I'll—"

"Don't waste your energy," Hans said with a dismissive wave of his flipper. "You've made your decision. If you're not going to join me, then I guess I'll just have to get my revenge on you once and for all. Goodbye," he said, slamming his fist down on a button. A computerized voice told him there were thirty seconds until self-destruct and started counting down.

Hans sprinted from the room and Skipper growled under his breath. He reached down to his leg, where he'd secured a paper clip safely hidden under his feathers. After using it to pick the lock to the cage, he glared at the photo still displayed on the screen before bolting from the room. He escaped with seven seconds to spare, and Hans was nowhere to be seen.

"Next time," Skipper said under his breath. Then he started the long journey home.

— § —

**Note:** This is actually inspiration from something I've been working on for about two years now. I will publish it, it is just the question of when I can _finally_ finish it. I have a lot of ideas for it that I've been dying to get on paper, but with several life issues (writer's block, school, other personal events), it's been a struggle to get it finished. This is why I finish a story before publishing. So, I guess you can consider this a preview.

By the way, _klaphat_ means idiot. I just thought it sounded more insulting in Danish.

**[Words: 964]**


	16. Prompt 16: Pain 05-31-15

_Pain 05.31.15_

"How is he?" Skipper asked Kowalski as he entered the HQ.

"He's still devastated that he couldn't act quick enough. I don't know how to tell him that there's nothing he could've done. He keeps drowning his sorrows in Winkies," Kowalski explained. They looked over to see Private stuffing another Winkie into his beak as he slumped against the wall in the corner. His eyes were puffy from crying.

Skipper sighed. "I'll go talk to him."

He walked across the room and slowly came to a stop in the middle of the pile of Winkie wrappers.

"Private, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" he asked the young cadet.

"Permission to decline, sir," Private requested through his Winkie.

"Denied," Skipper said sternly. "Up top, soldier," he ordered.

Private sighed heavily and pulled himself to his feet. Then he slugged his way to the hatch and pulled himself up with Skipper following closely behind.

"I know what you're going to say, Skipper, but I just don't feel like talking," Private said without meeting his eye.

"I'm not going to make you talk," Skipper replied.

Private looked at him and arched a brow. "You're not?" he asked.

"No," Skipper said. "You're here to listen. What happened the other day was . . . unthinkable. But you did everything you could. There's nothing you can do to change that. Sitting around sulking about it isn't going to bring him back."

"You think I don't know that?" Private asked sharply, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I just _can't_ live with it! I was the only one there that could've saved him! I will _never_ be able to let that go!"

"Private, I know how you feel. I've failed before. Lives have been lost because I made the wrong decision. But I also knew that giving up on myself wouldn't help anyone. You need to accept that too," Skipper said.

"I don't think you know how I feel at all, Skipper," Private replied. "Just because you went through the same thing one─ten─a hundred times, even!─it doesn't mean you know anything about what I'm going through. You don't have my heart. You don't have my mind. You don't have my conscience!"

"Really?" Skipper snapped. "I don't know how you feel?"

"No!" Private snapped back. "You don't even seem that broken up about it!"

"Maybe because I don't have the time to dwell over my failures for three days! I have to move on! You think I _wanted _that hawk to swoop down and take that duckling? How heartless do you think I am?!" Skipper argued.

Private was about to respond, but instead turned on his heel and leapt from the penguins' habitat. Skipper followed.

"Private, come back!" he called.

Private started sliding on his belly with complete disregard to his CO's order. After chasing him for a few more minutes, Skipper finally caught up to him and tackled him. Private tried to break away, but Skipper held him back. Finally, he released him where he would be cornered between a habitat and the zoo walls. Skipper caught his breath and wiped blood from his beak from where Private had clipped him.

Private glared at him. "What do you want from me?" he growled.

"I want you to let it out!─this anger!─this guilt! If you keep it inside it will _never_ get better," Skipper reasoned.

"I don't _want_ it to get better!" Private argued. "I _deserve_ to hurt! It was _my_ fault we couldn't save him!"

"You have to stop blaming yourself!" Skipper said, stepping toward him. "You're getting _nowhere_! Come on!" He shoved him hard. "Do something!"

"No!" Private said, turning his back on him. "Leave me alone!"

"You're angry!" Skipper said, turning him around by his shoulder. "You're frustrated! That hawk took him with no remorse! And you couldn't do _anything_ about it! How does that make you feel?!"

Private turned away from him again. "Shut up!"

"He's _never_ coming back!" Skipper pressed. "You can _never_ change that!"

"I said _stop_!" Private screamed, turning around and thrusting his fist forward. Skipper deflected it as Private continued to advance, but he did not play the offensive. He blocked Private's fists, jumped when he tried to kick under his feet, and ducked when he kicked upward. After a few minutes, Private slowly came to a stop and broke down, burying his face in Skipper's chest feathers. Skipper gently stroked the cadet's back.

"He was just a duckling," Private said in a muffled voice.

Skipper sighed. "I know. The world just isn't fair sometimes. You can't win them all. You just have to keep moving forward and . . . try to do better next time. By giving up, you're letting that hawk win," he said.

Private sniffed and pulled away, wiping the tears off his face. "You're right. I'm sorry, Skipper," he said, looking down.

Skipper wiped the tears off his chest. "It's all right, soldier. No harm done."

Private choked and sniffed again. "What about Momma Duck? How do you think she'll get past it?"

Skipper took a breath and let it out slowly. "I talked to her this morning, actually. She's taking it better than I thought she would. She told me she's lost ducklings in the past. Honestly, I think she's handling this better than you," he told him.

Private looked back down. "Do you think she hates me?"

Skipper smiled. "Of course not. She saw what happened. She knows you did everything you could. She doesn't blame you for anything, and you shouldn't blame yourself."

Private sighed. "I'll try, I guess."

"There you go," Skipper said, nudging his shoulder. "Come on, let's go back to HQ."

─ § ─

**Note:** I got this idea when I was reminded of the fact that there were five ducklings in _Paternal Egg-Stinct_, but only four ducklings in every episode involving the ducks afterward. I know it's probably a depressing thought, thinking of this as a potential scenario.

**[Words: 947]**


	17. Prompt 17: Silence 06-15-15

_Silence 06.15.15_

**Note:** **This installment contains hurt/comfort Skilene.**

— § —

"No . . . No, stop . . ."

"Marlene."

"Stop! Let me go!"

"Marlene!"

"You're hurting me!"

"_Marlene!_"

"Ah!"

Marlene sprung awake in her bed in a cold sweat. Skipper was above her, gripping her arms.

"Marlene, it's all right," he said comfortingly. "It was just a nightmare."

Marlene looked at Skipper as if ensuring she was actually awake. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her claws into him as if he might leave.

"Skipper! I'm sorry I woke you up!" she cried. "It was so real!"

Skipper stroked her back, ignoring the sting from her claws. "It's all right, Marlene. I was already awake, anyway. This storm's keeping everyone up. The boys and I were checking on everyone when I found you," he explained.

As if on cue, a round of thunder resounded overhead.

Marlene finally started to calm herself down and she released Skipper, pushing herself to the edge of the bed to sit. Skipper sat next to her.

"You wanna talk about it?" Skipper asked after a few minutes had passed and Marlene's heart rate had returned to normal.

Marlene winced. "Not really," she said quietly.

Skipper studied her. "I'm not gonna make you talk, but I hope you know you can always confide in me," he told her. More thunder cracked overhead.

Marlene reluctantly looked at him. "I know. I appreciate it."

Skipper held eye contact for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Some of the other animals took refuge in the Zoovenir Shop. You can too if you want," he said.

Marlene nodded, but she didn't respond verbally. Skipper decided she wanted to be alone and stood, but stopped at the sound of her voice.

"Wait," she said. Skipper stopped and looked back at her. "Could you—stay? For just a minute?" she requested.

Skipper sat down again.

"I just—ever since I met her, I've been having nightmares about her," Marlene said, looking down into her paws.

Skipper's brow lowered. "Her?" he inquired.

"My feral side," Marlene clarified.

Skipper nodded in understanding, but then became confused again. "But I thought you said meeting her made you feel better since you were able to control it," he said.

"I did—at first," Marlene replied. "But then I got to thinking. She was . . . _insane_. No one ever told me the whole story of what she did those few times I went outside the zoo." She looked at Skipper like she was expecting him to tell her now.

"Well," Skipper said with a sigh, "she sure put up a fight, but there's honestly not much left to tell. No one was seriously injured."

Marlene hugged her knees to her chest. "But she's _nothing_ like me. How could I turn into something like that, something so—_violent_?"

Skipper shrugged. "Everyone has a side to themselves they never knew they had," he said.

Marlene looked at him. "Really? Even you?" she challenged.

Skipper nodded slowly. "Affirmative."

"What is it?" Marlene asked.

Skipper shifted uncomfortably. "That's, uh, classified," he said without meeting her eye.

Marlene looked down. A moment passed before she said, "What if she comes back?"

Skipper looked at her. "I doubt she will. You faced her. You know how to control her."

"You sound so sure about that," she said, shaking her head.

"Because I am," Skipper replied. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Marlene."

As if to mock that statement, a loud _bang!_ of thunder broke the sound barrier, causing the two to jump. Marlene gripped Skipper's flipper. As their heart rates calmed, Skipper pulled his flipper free and wrapped it around her protectively, looking up at the ceiling as if the storm were about to crash through it.

"How about I take you to the park tomorrow? Or when it stops raining," Skipper offered. "I'll prove to you that she's gone for good."

Marlene swallowed. "I don't know . . ."

"Marlene," Skipper said, tipping her chin, "I'll be with you the whole time. At the first sign of her return, I'll rush you back to the zoo," he promised.

"What if you're too late?" Marlene asked.

Skipper smiled reassuringly. "Me, late? It's like you don't know me at all, Dollface."

Marlene smiled and rolled her eyes. "Fine. I guess we'll give it a shot," she agreed.

Skipper nudged her. "There's the Marlene I know," he said proudly.

Marlene laughed. "Am I always scared out of my mind?"

Skipper shook his head. "Everyone's scared of something. It's acting in spite of that fear that makes you brave," he told her.

Marlene smiled gratefully, but then she frowned. "Is that what you do?" she asked.

Skipper's smile faded and he looked at the floor. "Yeah," he said softly.

"But . . . what are _you_ afraid of?" Marlene asked with surprise.

Skipper made that face again, as he had earlier when she'd asked about his "other side." He refused eye contact. "Also classified."

Marlene thought for a moment, and then she tried to meet his eye. "I'm not gonna make you talk, but I hope you know you can always confide in me," she said with a small smile.

Skipper looked down at her and smiled back. "I know," he said.

Marlene sighed. "Still not gonna tell me?" she asked doubtfully.

Skipper looked away again and took a breath. "What am I afraid of? I'm afraid of losing the people I care about. I'm afraid that one day there's gonna be nothing I can do to prevent something bad from happening. I'm afraid of—of—" They finished together— "losing control."

They looked at each other as silence passed between them. A sense of understanding passed between them as the storm continued to rage outside. Despite the _pitter-patter_ing of rain, all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and heartbeats. There was another _crack!_ of thunder and they were snapped out of their trance.

"Heh," Marlene said, looking up, "maybe we should go to the Zoovenir Shop now."

Skipper nodded. "Right. Let's go."

— § —

**Note:** I didn't realize this until I was just about finished with it, but this kind of seemed like a retelling of _Dream_ (installment six). I debated just completely omitting or rewriting it, but I just really liked how it turned out. I promise I'll avoid doing that with any other installments, however.

**[Words: 993]**


	18. Prompt 18: Trouble Lurking 06-16-15

_Trouble Lurking 06.16.15_

". . . and the part where Commodore Danger took out that helicopter with a _car_? Totally awesome!" Skipper said, pumping his fist in the air.

"Yeah, yeah!" Rico agreed from the driver's seat as the penguins made their way back to the zoo in the sewers.

"What do you think the ninth movie will be about?" Private asked.

"Whatever it is, I guarantee it's going to be _sick_," Skipper said.

"I did have a problem with that cocky technician, though," Kowalski commented. "Acting like she knew _everything_ or something. I mean, how annoying is that?"

Skipper, Private, and Rico looked at him.

"What?" Kowalski asked obliviously.

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Nothing."

A few minutes later, Rico turned a corner. Skipper frowned.

"What's wrong, Skipper?" Private asked from the backseat, noticing his expression from the side.

"I don't know," he replied. "I have this feeling in my gut. Something's wrong."

Rico pulled the car to a stop under the next manhole. Then the penguins got out of the car and climbed up to the manhole cover, lifting it up slightly. The street was relatively busy, with a few cars passing by and a pedestrian on the sidewalk here and there. Some guy in a sandwich suit stood outside of some deli restaurant named "Dailey's Deli" where the motto was "The best deli in town, daily!" The suit was basically a sandwich with arms and legs—whomever was inside had to look through two small holes.

"I don't see anything wrong," Kowalski observed, "unless that BLT is a government assassin in disguise."

Skipper scanned the area suspiciously. "I guess it's just my paranoia getting to me again. Let's go ba—"

"Wait," Private interrupted, "look," he said, pointing down the street. A black van just turned onto the street at the end of the block. The penguins' eyes narrowed as it made its way down the street. Suddenly, it accelerated and skidded to a halt outside Dailey's Deli. Two large men wearing ski masks hopped out of the back, grabbed the panini, and hauled him inside as he flailed his arms and legs uselessly. That suit didn't make it easy to defend himself. Then the van revved violently as it started speeding away.

"Rico! Maneuver Sigma-Chi-Omega!" Skipper barked.

Rico regurgitated two walkie-talkies, a skateboard, and a flamethrower. Tossing one radio to Skipper, he jumped onto the skateboard with the other, using the flamethrower to propel himself after the van. The other penguins jumped back into the car, Kowalski at the wheel.

"Where are they headed, Rico?" Skipper said into the radio. Rico replied in his string of gibberish. "Step on it, Kowalski!"

Kowalski stepped on the gas and the car shot forward. A few seconds later, Rico relayed something on the radio.

"Turn left, now!" Skipper ordered. Kowalski jerked the wheel to the left, throwing the others into the right side of the car. Skipper received another message. "Now right!"

Kowalski yanked the wheel to the right and the car soared over the river of sewage onto the opposite walkway, punching it alongside the brown river. After repeating this several times, Rico transmitted a final message.

"Stop here!" Skipper said. Kowalski slammed on the brakes and everyone lurched forward, and then slumped back when the car came to a stop. "Let's move, team!" Skipper said, leaping from the car and climbing up to the nearest manhole.

The three penguins peered out. They were at some kind of warehouse (what a cliché). Rico appeared a moment later, gesturing the team to follow. He led them up a fire escape to a window that gave a clear view of what was happening.

Three large men wrestled Sandwich to the middle of the room and set him down on a chair facing away from the penguins, using duct tape to restrain him. Then they removed their ski masks. One of them had a thick layer of facial hair and calloused hands. Another had a very defined jawline and a sleek brown mullet. Unlike his caucasian counterparts, the largest of the three was an African American with a mohawk and decorated with gold rings and chains around his neck—like a Mr. T wannabe.

Facial Hair pulled out a switchblade and sliced a hole around the top of the sandwich costume and ripped it off so just his head poked out. All the penguins could make out was a bald African American head in the dim lighting.

"So," Mr. T started, "you're late."

"Please, I told you I would pay you back! I just need a little more time!" Sandwich protested.

"I gave you a three-month deadline, and since I'm such a nice guy, I gave you another month. Still, you don't even have half what you owe. Why should I give you _more_ time?" Mr. T asked, crossing his arms over his gold.

Sandwich didn't answer.

The penguins exchanged a glance.

"Something serious is about to go down here," Skipper said quietly. "Commence Operation: Tuna Melt."

Rico suited each of them with ear coms. Then the penguins dispersed as the three men continued to interrogate Sandwich.

"Talk to me, Kowalski," Skipper said, taking a position in the SouthEast corner.

"Still no visual on Sandwich," Kowalski replied. "The men are blocking him. But I think I know how to bust him out. This is an old warehouse, and the wiring on these lights look old. I could short-circuit the whole building in about ten seconds, max."

"Get in position," Skipper said. "Rico, Private, rendezvous in the rafters above the men."

The team did as told. Skipper turned to Rico. "We're gonna need some heavy equipment to take out these tough guys."

Rico nodded and provided them with a crowbar, a baseball bat, and a frying pan. Skipper looked at the instruments. "Interesting choices, but we'll work with it."

They each grabbed a weapon. "I'll take Mr. T," Skipper said. "Rico, you take Jawline. Private, you've got Facial Hair. Kowalski, prepare to give these guys a New York welcome."

"In position," Kowalski replied.

Skipper nodded. "On three: five, four, three!"

Kowalski touched two wires together and the fuse box popped, plunging the place into darkness. The others jumped down to their designated targets and gave them a good _thwack!_ to the head, knocking them unconscious. Although Skipper had to give Mr. T an extra hit before he finally went limp. Kowalski joined them a second later.

"What's going on?" Sandwich asked fearfully. "Who turned out the lights?"

"That voice sounds awfully familiar," Private muttered.

"I concur," Skipper said. "Rico, give us a visual."

Rico regurgitated a flashlight and shined it in Sandwich's face, who squinted. "What? Who's there?" he said, trying to see past the blinding light. The penguins gasped.

"It's Officer X!" Kowalski exclaimed.

"Apparently BLT X, now," Private said.

Rico sniggered. "Panini X!"

"Knock it off," Skipper ordered.

Finally, X's vision started to adjust and he made out penguin-shaped figures in the dark. "Penguins!" he growled in both surprise and outrage. Then he softened. "Penguins . . . saved me?"

The penguins exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

"Rico, cut him lose," Skipper ordered.

Rico started to protest. "Bu—"

"No buts!" Skipper snapped.

Rico cautiously made it over to X and used the switchblade that Facial Hair dropped to cut through the duct tape binding him to the chair. X slowly stood, trying to decide how he felt about the situation. Nobody said anything for a couple minutes.

"Well, you might've saved me for now, but they're just going to be extra PO'd when they wake up. What am I supposed to do then?" X said.

Skipper looked at the unconscious men, and then he smiled.

About fifteen minutes later, the men woke up with a groan.

"Wh-What happened?" Jawline asked.

"Where are we?" Mr. T asked. Then he started struggling with frustration. "Who duct taped us together!" he screamed in outrage. The three tried to pull themselves free, but they were bound tightly. Then they squinted in the darkness when a light shined on their face.

"Well, well, well," X cooed, "morning, sunshines."

"X? What's going on here?" Mr. T demanded.

"Here's 'what's going on here,'" X said. "I believe I asked for more time, and that's exactly what you're going to give me. I want six more months."

"And why would we give you that?" Jawline asked with a scoff.

X chuckled. "Boys."

Rico jumped in front of the flashlight with the crowbar, laughing maniacally. The men watched with confusion and horror.

"What the hell? Is that a penguin?" Jawline said.

"I don't like the way that thing's lookin' at me, boss," Facial Hair said.

Mr. T laughed. "You think I'm scared of your little pet?"

Rico shook his head. _Pet?_ He was nobody's pet! With a defiant yell, he pounced on a nearby crate and tore it to shreds to send a message. Still chewing on a piece of wood, he maintained his position with the crowbar.

The three men swallowed and exchanged a fearful glance. "O-Okay! Six more months!" they said, overlapping each other's word. "You got it! No problem! Please don't hurt me!"

X smiled with satisfaction and tossed a switchblade at them. "Glad we have an understanding. Free yourselves."

"How?" Jawline protested.

"Figure it out," X said before turning away.

Rico swallowed the flashlight and weapons as they followed X to the door.

"Hey!" the men objected. "At least leave us some light! Come on!"

Once outside, X knelt down next to the penguins, as if he was carefully considering his next words.

"I'm not sure how well you understand me, but . . . thanks. I—guess maybe I was wrong about you," he said, although it seemed as though saying those words felt a lot like swallowing volcanic rock.

The penguins looked from each other to X. Then they held a flipper in salute. X knit his brows in confusion, but returned it hastily. Then Rico grabbed the piece of sandwich suit the men had cut out and handed it to him before the penguins left him standing there.

X looked at the piece of suit in his hands and frowned. Something twinkled inside of it. He reached in and pulled it out. It was a diamond necklace—something the penguins had found on the ground a while ago—with a note attached to it. He unrolled it and smiled as he read.

_To help you get started. Don't screw up._

_~Nature's Lawbreakers_

— § —

**Note:** So, I kind of broke the most important rule with this challenge: the word limit. I did my best to condense it, but I just couldn't find the heart to omit anything. Everything seemed essential to making this "ficlet" (Thanks, ProbableImpossiblities!), and I just couldn't delete it completely because I just love how it came out. I will avoid breaking that rule twice.

**[Words: 1735]**


	19. Prompt 19: All That I Have 06-24-15

_All That I Have 06.24.15_

**Note:** **Manu and Maya are the two Asian elephants from _Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted_. While they did not have any lines, I thought it'd be interesting to play with their characters. I wanted to go in a direction that would show a close bond between the two siblings. As a side note, in the movie's commentary, it is revealed that they are German. The term "Mutti" means mom.**

— § —

"Manu?" Maya called softly.

"I'm right here, Maya," Manu replied.

It was dark. They were in a large shipping crate, with only a strip cut along the top of the long sides to provide them with some fresh air, which were lined with bars, like a partial cage. Now, only night air seeped in, along with the sounds of water crashing along the side of the ship outside. The starless night offered no light to them—only the very dim fluorescent light that just barely crept overtop the other shipping containers that separated theirs from the ship's decks.

"Where do you think they're taking us? What's a circus?" Maya asked, reaching in the direction of her older brother's voice. He was only a few inches away from her, and he wrapped her trunk in his.

"I don't know, Maya," Manu replied. "Those, um, _things_—Mutti told me they're called _humans_—said something about this _circus_ buying us, whatever that means."

Maya squinted, trying to see Manu's face in the dark. "Where is Mutti? The humans said something about—what were they called?"

"Poachers," Manu said regretfully. "They, um, took Mutti away." He was six, and Maya was only a year old. She was too young to know certain things.

Maya winced. She remembered that dreadful day, just last week, when Mutti rushed them through the jungle and told them to hide in this cave covered with thick brush. Maya and Manu tried to ask what was wrong, but Mutti said that everything was fine. She said they were playing a little game, that was all. She said that to win, they had to stay absolutely silent and not come out until she came to get them. She said she loved them both, and to look out for each other. Then she hurried off.

Not too long after, they heard these loud pops in the near distance. Manu had hugged his sister close as they heard the sound of an elephant's trumpet, and then silence. They didn't move from their hiding place until morning, and they couldn't find Mutti anywhere. Then these humans found them. They said something about them being very young, and that they wouldn't survive on their own. Manu overheard them cursing the poachers for taking their mother under their breath. They took them in, and then this nice lady human told them that a nice circus would take care of them. Mutti had never taught Manu about circuses, and the thought of the unknown scared him. He had to be brave for his sister, though.

"Where did they take her, Manu?" Maya asked innocently. She still didn't understand exactly what happened that day.

Manu remained silent for a moment. "They took her to a very nice place, Maya," he said softly. "She's in a much better place than anywhere we could ever find."

Maya tried to feel relieved, but Manu's trunk was tense around hers. She didn't know why he seemed so upset, but she didn't ask. Mainly because she was afraid to. "Will she come back for us?" she asked hopefully.

Manu squeezed her trunk tighter. "No, Maya. But it's not her fault. She loved us dearly. It was just out of her control. You'll understand one day," he assured her, grateful for the darkness hiding his expression.

Maya felt sad again. She rested her head against her brother's. "What do we do now, Manu? I'm scared."

"I know, Maya. I am too. But as long as we stick together, we'll be okay. I promise. You're all that I have, Maya. You're my sister, and I'll always protect you," Manu said, holding her closer.

Maya found comfort in her brother's embrace. "I love you, Manu," she said softly.

Manu looked at the pitch black sky from the opening in the crate. "I love you, too, Maya."

**[Words: 640]**


	20. Prompt 20: Pen and Paper 06-27-15

_Pen and Paper 06.27.15_

**Note: ****This installment contains references to North Wind from _The Penguins of Madagascar Movie_, although it should not spoil anything for those that haven't seen it. By the way, there's one mild curse word, just a warning.**

— § —

"Skipper, this came for you," Kowalski said, making his way over to his retired first-in-command with an envelope.

Skipper smiled as he took the envelope from Kowalski. "Thanks, Kowalski," he said with a tired sigh.

"Couldn't sleep again?" Kowalski guessed.

"Ah, it's that damn hip again," Skipper said with an irritable roll of his eyes. "It's been four years, you'd think it would've stopped bothering me by now."

Kowalski smiled empathetically. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're old. It was one thing when you broke it, and then you had to be stubborn and not rest like I told you to," he said, folding his flippers.

"Hey, I _did_ rest, thank you very much," Skipper argued.

"Yeah, for two weeks. Then one more week when I begged you to," Kowalski shot back.

Skipper narrowed his eyes. "Just because I'm retired now doesn't mean I won't slap you for arguing with me," he said with a smile.

Kowalski chuckled. "You gotta catch me first, old man," he teased. He jumped back as Skipper swung his flipper in his direction, aiming for his face. He barely missed and almost fell out of his seat. He winced as he felt pain in his side and settled back with an annoyed huff.

"_That_ was not fair," he said, trying and failing not to laugh.

"All's fair in love and war," Kowalski said, leaning on the far end of the table.

"And that's not how the saying's used," Skipper argued. Kowalski laughed as Skipper chuckled and looked at the envelope in his flippers. He opened it and pulled out the letter. Kowalski walked around behind him and looked over his shoulder. Unfolding it, they read:

_Guys,_

_Hello, guys! How have you been? I hope you've been well. You won't ever guess what happened this week! I've been given my first field assignment! Unfortunately, I can't give you the details because they're classified (at least not in writing! shh!). I'm really excited, but also a little nervous. I move out on Monday. If you guys have any advice, I'd greatly appreciate it. I value your guidance, as always._

_We got a few new recruits the other day! They're not part of my unit, but I see them around. I've become good friends with one. Um . . . well, she's a girl. I think she likes me. Not that I like her or anything. I mean, not in that way. Oh, stop smiling. I know you are._

_ANYWAY, I'm really missing you all. These past several months have been very strange for me, not waking up with you guys in the morning. And North Wind does everything so differently! All this fancy technology and multimillion-dollar systems! Well, I'm excited to come home for your birthday (well, I guess it would be __hatch__day, if you want to get technical) in a couple months, Skipper. Hopefully I'll be done with my assignment by then. If not, I'll come as soon as I get the chance. I can't believe you're turning 60! It seems like just last week you were giving me drills or combat training to do. Nobody slaps me here, just gives me a bunch of push-ups or laps to do. It makes me kind of appreciate all the slaps you used to give me!_

_Missing you guys,_

_Private_

_PS. This is Agent "Classified." I saw Private writing to you and asked if I could pitch in a word. It sure has been a long time since we last encountered. I also hope you're doing well. Your boy is doing great here at North Wind. He's bursting with potential! You've trained him quite well. Oh, by the way, he will __not_ _be giving you any classified information regardless of transmission! You understand. Corporal, Eva, and ShortFuse also say hello. Best wishes. And Happy early 60th!_

Skipper chuckled and sighed at the letter. When he'd started _reaching that age_ and wasn't able to go as he used to, he suggested that Private keep doing his part to do good in the world. Private seemed reluctant to resign from the team, but eventually agreed because he wanted to do Skipper proud. He wasn't sure where to go when he remembered that North Wind—an "elite undercover interspecies task force" that they'd helped face a villain many years ago—was always looking for recruits. Skipper said that if that's where Private wanted to go, then he and the boys would support him. He made a special call to Agent Classified the next morning, and he was thrilled to have Private join, especially after seeing him in action when they'd encountered the aforementioned villain.

Rico walked in and perked up when he saw Skipper holding Private's letter. He asked him what he had to say and Skipper let him look it over. He smiled and told Skipper that Private was going to make a great agent. Might even lead his own unit one day, like him. Skipper smiled at the thought.

"He's all grown up now," Skipper said with a distant look in his eye. "I'm not sure if that makes me happy or sad."

Kowalski and Rico smiled empathetically.

"All of the above," Kowalski replied.

A collective sigh resounded among them as a moment of silence passed.

Kowalski cracked a grin. "So, are we teasing him about the girl?" he asked, refraining from a chuckle.

Skipper smiled and reached for a pen and paper. "Oh, we're _definitely_ teasing him about the girl."

— § —

**Note:** Happy ⅕ of the way through "Operation: Challenge"!I had a lot of fun writing this one. It is _so hard_ not to break another rule just so I can write a sequel to this, but with Private reading the reply from them. Maybe if I think hard enough I can find a loophole (LOL). Well, there isn't a rule stipulating that I can't have a _separate_ project containing one of the shots I have in this project. Hm. . . . Who knows?

**[Words: 913]**


	21. Prompt 21: Advertisement 07-12-15

_Advertisement 07.12.15_

**Note:** **This takes place during _Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted_, after Chantal DuBois shoots Alex, Marty, Melman, Gloria, and Julien with the tranquilizers.**

— § —

"Sonya! I miss you, baby! I miss my stinky bear!" Julien called aimlessly as he stumbled about like a drunk. "Babe, your fishy kisses! Sonya, where are you? Sonya!"

He stumbled on his way through Central Park, calling for his love. A few children saw him and laughed as their mothers directed them away from the crazy animal.

"Sonya! Come here, you fat, hairy beast!" he called at the top of his lungs. A few pigeons that were pecking the ground a few yards away took off. A bum that was sitting on a park bench watched the lemur stumbling by with wide eyes and brow cocked. He closed an eye and looked down the opening of the bottle in his hand that was covered with a paper bag. Then he poured it out on the ground next to him.

Julien looked around, occasionally turning a full three sixty like a ballerina, in search for Sonya.

"Sonya!" he called again. "I'm sorry for the words I threw up at you!"

He came to a sidewalk and narrowed his eyes as he tried to make something out across the street. He perked up as he realized it was Sonya—or at least what his delusional mind _thought_ was Sonya.

"Sonya!" he called as he stumbled out into the street, causing a few cars the screech to a halt, along with an angry sounding of horns. Julien ignored them as he crossed the street to where a television store was. There were televisions displayed in the window, all playing the same program. At the moment, it was an advertisement for Circus Zaragoza and showing footage from their performance in Rome, now showing Sonya riding on her motorcycle with Julien on her back. Julien didn't seem to notice that detail.

"Sonya! What are you doing, you crazy bear! Get out of that box, right now!" he said, tapping on the glass.

"Do you hear me, Sonya!" Julien called, pressing his face against the glass. "Sonya!" he called again in frustration. "Don't ignore me, baby! Let me love you!"

The program went to commercial and Julien stared first in confusion, and then in annoyance. "Sonya! Come back!" He pounded on the glass a few times.

"Hey!" said a voice to his left. Julien turned to see an angry man with a broom.

"I don't recall ordering housekeeping," Julien said, squinting his eyes in thought.

The man started swinging his broom at him. "Go on! Get out of here!"

Julien stepped back, barely missing swings. "Hey! Watch where you swing that thing!" he said, stumbling backwards.

Then he saw a large eighteen-wheeler roll by. Its trailer had a large ad for Circus Zaragoza, and Sonya's photo was on the back end.

"Sonya!" Julien cried, stumbling after the truck. "Sonya, come back! When did you get so fast? Sonya!" he called.

After running for a few minutes in the direction the truck had gone, he became out of breath and braced himself against a tree. He'd managed to make it around to the west side of the park, a half-circle from where he'd began. He sat down with a sad sigh and looked at a grasshopper a few inches away.

"Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts more than constipation?" he asked. The grasshopper chirped. "Yeah," Julien agreed. "I am thinking my heart has love constipation."

The grasshopper chirped again and then hopped away.

"Hey, where are you going?" Julien called after. "I was—" He stopped short when he saw the circus tent at the end of the park. He perked up and started stumbling forward. "Sonya! I am coming, my love!"

He reached the circus tent and looked around, calling for Sonya. He ran into a post and courteously tipped his crown. "Excuse me," he said as he continued on his way. Finally, he spotted her and ran forward, tossing his crown to the side.

"Sonya, baby! I don't want to be king anymore!" he said, groveling at her feet. Everyone watched in silent surprise. "I was so hung up on who I was, and who you was, what you smelt like, when all that really matters is what we smell like together," he said, climbing up onto her belly and holding her face. The other circus animals exchanged looks.

"Oh, baby! Forgive me!" he said before Sonya popped his head into her mouth. Skipper pulled him out a second later, demanding to know where he got the dart that was in his tail. "I got it from the zoo!" he answered. Skipper shoved him back into Sonya's mouth.

Julien heard muffled voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. Not that he cared.

He had his stinky bear back.

— § —

**Note:** I'm not entirely sure how my weird mind came up with some of those lines, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless.

**[Words: 789]**


	22. Prompt 22: Breaking the Rules 08-10-15

_Breaking the Rules 08.10.15_

"All right," Kowalski said, shuffling the card deck. "We're playing a game called 'Obtenir Encore.'"

Skipper arched a brow. "What?"

"It's French. Don't worry about it," Kowalski said. He dealt four cards to each player. "Dealer goes first and we move counter-clockwise from there," he explained, picking up his hand and sliding the deck to the center of the table. He studied his cards and placed an ace of spades face-up next to the deck.

After studying his cards carefully, Private picked a card and placed a four of diamonds on top of Kowalski's cards. Rico placed a ten of diamonds on the pile. Skipper furrowed his brow, missing the pattern.

"I don't understand," he said. "What am I looking for?"

"Well," Kowalski started, "if we told you, that would take the fun out of trying to figure it out."

Skipper eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but decided to play along. "Fine," he said. "I guess I'll go with . . ." He placed a seven of hearts on the pile.

"What?!" Rico exclaimed. "Ah, man!" He put his cards face-down on the table and folded his flippers, pouting angrily.

Skipper looked between them in surprise. "What did I do?"

"Rico's out," Kowalski explained.

"Don't worry, Rico," Private said comfortingly. "Maybe I can get you back in."

"How would you do that?" Skipper asked.

Private giggled. "I can't tell you," he replied. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

Skipper looked between his teammates with narrowed eyes, concentrating intensely. Kowalski put in a six of clubs. Private put in a three of diamonds with a triumphant "ha!" Rico was skipped, and Skipper carefully chose a card and put it in.

Kowalski laughed. "Rookie mistake," he muttered. He put a card down. Then Private.

"Ah," Kowalski said to Skipper, "now you have to draw four cards."

Skipper blinked. "Draw four cards?" His teammates nodded as if it made complete sense. "Why do I have to—" He rolled his eyes and interrupted Kowalski before he could reply. "Right, I have to figure it out. Yadda, yadda, yadda." He sighed and pulled four cards from the deck.

"If you'd like to fold, we'll understand," Private said.

"No," Skipper replied, "I'm gonna see how this game works."

Skipper studied his cards, his eyes flitting to the pile in front of him every few seconds. He placed a card down and Kowalski drew four cards without question, laying down a three of clubs a moment later. Private took two cards from the deck. Then he smiled and laid down an ace of hearts.

"You're back in the game, Rico!" he said happily.

"Yay!" Rico exclaimed as he picked up his cards. He laid down a seven of clubs.

Skipper furrowed his brow. "Does that mean Private's out now?" he asked, remembering that a seven of hearts rendered Rico out of the game before.

The team laughed.

"No, silly!" Private replied. "Stop messing around with the rules."

"I don't even know what the rules _are_!" Skipper protested.

The team laughed again. Skipper sighed and laid down a card.

Kowalski put in a four of clubs. "All right, Private. You know the drill."

Private set his cards face-down on the table and started doing jumping jacks. Skipper had no idea what was going on, but he knew what the response would be if he asked. After Private did twenty, he picked up his cards and put in a nine of diamonds. Rico drew four cards, and then laid down a jack of clubs.

"All right, Skipper!" Kowalski snapped. "Drop and give us fifty!"

Skipper blinked in shock. "You want me to—"

"Down, soldier!" Kowalski ordered, taking his cards and putting them face-down on the table. Rico turned him around by his shoulder and pushed him face forward onto the ground. Skipper started doing the push-ups.

"What's the point of this?" he asked, unsure of why he was complying with the so-called 'rules.'

"This is a game of strategy and strength, Skipper!" Kowalski replied. "You can always opt out of the push-ups by drawing ten cards."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "No, I'll do the stupid push-ups."

After finally doing fifty, he got up and turned back to the team, who quickly turned to their hands while clearing their throats. Skipper snatched up his cards and stared determinedly at them, trying to understand. He laid down a three of hearts.

Kowalski sighed and snatched up three cards from the deck. He laid one down. Private pouted.

"Aw," he said, laying his cards face-down. "I'm out."

Skipper threw a flipper up and rolled his eyes. He was so lost.

Rico took his turn. Kowalski turned to Skipper.

"Okay, you have to draw two cards now," he instructed.

"Okay," Skipper muttered, rolling his eyes and pulling two cards from the deck. He laid down a card.

The team groaned.

"What now?" Skipper demanded.

"You _had _to lay down a queen of hearts," Kowalski complained. "Any of the spades would've been a better choice. All right. On three. One, two, three!"

The three of them threw their cards into the air and Skipper dropped his in surprise. The team scrambled about, fighting over the most valuable cards first. Skipper grabbed at a random one, but Rico growled at him and took it before he could. Finally, the team stopped and Skipper was left with the few that were left. Kowalski laid down a card as if nothing happened.

Private and Rico took their turns and watched Skipper lay down a card.

"Blam!" the team shouted, throwing their cards at Skipper, who jumped in shock. "You're out!"

The team erupted into laughter as Skipper stared bewilderedly at them, a small pile of cards on his head. Kowalski wiped a tear and spoke between laughs.

"By the way, Skipper, 'Obtenir Encore' is French for _getting even_."

— § —

**Note:** Inspiration for this came from the episode _Operation: Big Blue Marble_, when Skipper played "Slap 'em and Grab 'em Poker" with the team and seemingly made up all the rules as he went along. I thought the team might play a little prank on Skipper to get back at him.

Shoutout to Fan de Basil de Baker Street for helping me with the French. Thanks a million for your help!

**[Words: 969]**


	23. Prompt 23: Smile 09-06-15

_Smile 09.06.15_

"Operation: Frozen is a success!" Skipper said, holding up his successfully retrieved snow cone.

Kowalski sighed. "Too bad they were out of blueberry," he muttered in disappointment.

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Let it go," he said. He turned toward the others. "Let's head back to HQ."

The penguins started their journey back through Central Park to the zoo, happily licking at their snow cones in the mid-summer heat. But when they were about halfway there, Private grabbed his leader's shoulder to bring him to a stop.

"Wait, Skipper, look over there," he said, pointing to a tree. "She's crying," he observed.

Skipper followed Private's flipper. Several meters away, under the tree, a little girl was sitting on the ground, obviously upset about something.

"Affirmative," Skipper said, his eyes etched with concern. "Move out, team," he ordered, the team moving forward on command. But Skipper stopped and turned back for a moment. "Oh, and don't use the metric system," he added before joining his team, making the narrator feel a bit paranoid.

As the team approached, the girl's whimpering became more audible as they closed the distance between them and her. When they were a couple of meters—excuse me, _yards_—away, they noticed a rag doll lying in the girl's lap. Well, what was left of it. It was obvious that it had suffered a great ordeal. One of the eyes was hanging over its cheek, one arm was hanging by a thread while the other arm had been completely pulled off, its clothes were in tatters, and it looked as if something had tried to eat the legs.

The penguins stood back a few _feet_ and watched in a sad silence as they examined the girl's face, which was red from crying, and her eyes were puffy and wet, her tears staining both of her cheeks. Her short, dark hair stuck to her forehead and neck from the heat, but she seemed more concerned about her doll.

"Skipper, we have to do something," Private said with a quiver in his voice, as if he might start crying too. "She's so sad."

"I agree," Skipper replied in a serious tone. It broke his heart to see a child so upset, but, of course, he wouldn't be one to show any emotion other than determination. "Commence Operation: Smile."

After assuring there weren't too many people around to suspect the four penguins being in Central Park, they approached the little girl and made a semicircle around her. She lifted her head and sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her arm, trying to discern how these four penguins came to be in Central Park. Skipper held up a couple of napkins he'd went back the snow cone cart to pick up. The little girl hesitantly accepted the gesture and blew her nose. Private held up a rainbow cone with a smile, having picked it up from the cart when Skipper had grabbed the napkins. The girl took the snow cone and looked down into it. Then she looked at the penguins with a small smile.

Rico stepped forward and gathered the doll pieces in his flippers, laying them on the ground a moment later. He studied them carefully for a few minutes, and then he regurgitated a sewing kit and set to work.

The little girl watched in awe, her tongue in mid-lick, as Rico repaired her doll. After about five minutes of work, Rico held up his final product. It wasn't perfect, but it was intact. The little girl dropped her snow cone to the side and took the doll from Rico. She examined it by turning it over a few times and tugging at the limbs to ensure they were secure. She beamed with happiness and, with the doll still gripped in her right hand, gathered the penguins into her arms and hugged them tight.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!" she cried as tears of joy trailed down her cheeks. "You're my most favorite-est penguins ever!" she said, snuggling them close.

Private looked at Skipper, who was to his right. "I think we can call Operation: Smile a success, Skipper," he said with a smile, wrapping his flippers around the girl's shoulder.

Skipper smiled back. "Affirmative."

— § —

**Note:** Inspiration from this came from an image I saw on fanpop. Type "penguins of madagascar cheering up a crying girl fanpop" into Google and it should be the first link.

And yes, that was a _Frozen_ reference at the beginning. Also, does anyone have any tips on a better security system that'll keep _certain commando penguins_ from breathing down my neck? . . . He's right behind me, isn't he.

**[Words: 708]**


	24. Prompt 24: Dark 09-17-15

_Dark 09.17.15_

"All right, boys," Skipper began, pacing in front of his men, who were standing at attention. "Question. What comes to mind when I say the word _darkness_?"

Private, who was furthest to the left, answered first. "When Rico pulled that prank on me at two in the morning," he said bitterly. "I needed a nightlight for three weeks," he muttered under his breath. Rico snickered.

Kowalski, who was next in line, then answered. "The theory on the mysterious anomaly of dark matter," he said, staring wistfully in thought.

Rico spat a response out in gibberish. The team rolled their eyes. Only Rico would come up with "the way an explosion looks at night."

"Okay," Skipper replied. "Not what I was going for. The darkness I'm talking about is the darkness that comes from within," he explained, clenching a fist at his chest.

"Oh," Private said with a touch of concern, "what about it?"

Skipper casually leaned against the table. "Tell me, boys. Who do you think capable of harnessing darkness?" he asked, carefully examining his men's expressions.

There was silence for a few moments while the team thought it over.

"Um," Private started, looking down in thought, "badgers?" he suggested.

"Red Squirrel! Red Squirrel!" Rico chanted.

"All of Doris' ex-boyfriends?" Kowalski suggested casually, earning him a look from his teammates. He shrugged. "What?"

Skipper rolled his eyes. "Well, actually, you're all correct," he said.

"What?" Private protested. "Even Kowalski?" he asked, gesturing to the penguin on his left, who looked at him irritably.

"Yes," Skipper replied, "even Kowalski. But you're missing the bigger picture. The answer is . . . everyone."

"Everyone?" Private inquired.

"Everyone," Skipper confirmed. "You. Me. Even your sweet old grandmother," he continued. Rico gasped and put his flippers over his beak. Surely, his grandmother wasn't capable of darkness!

"I'm not sure about that, Skipper," Private said timidly, hoping to not be slapped for insubordination. "You know I can barely hurt a fly."

"Really?" Skipper replied calmly. He stepped forward and stopped in front of him, folding his flippers over his chest. "What would you do if someone took one of Momma Duck's children?—took them and did the unthinkable?" he inquired.

Private was caught off guard. "Well, they would have to pay!" he answered, the mere thought angering him.

Skipper nodded. "Exactly. Like I said," he said, turning back to the others, "anyone is capable of darkness. Under the right circumstances, anyone—_anyone_—can succumb to it."

The team was silent for a moment as they exchanged glances.

"What's the point of telling us this, Skipper?" Kowalski inquired.

Skipper turned on his heel and went back to the table, leaning against it again before responding. "I'm telling you this because it is important for you all not to underestimate _anyone_. Anyone is capable of turning in an instant. One day, you're the best of friends, and the next, you're sworn enemies."

"You act like you speak from experience, sir," Kowalski observed.

Skipper locked eyes with lieutenant for a moment, unresponding. Then he studied the coffee machine across the room as he spoke. "I'm just saying. Don't ever dismiss anyone as a suspect based on character. _Anyone_ is capable of darkness. I want you three to remember that."

"Would this happen to have been brought on by those classified files you looked through this morning?" Private asked.

Skipper looked at the youngest penguin. "Possibly," he replied, obviously not wanting to go into any more detail than necessary. "Dismissed."

The team exchanged another glance as Skipper went to the coffee machine. Kowalski and Rico shoved Private forward a little.

"Skipper?" Private called softly as Skipper poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Yes, Private," Skipper replied, stirring a fish in the coffee, but not making eye contact.

"I was just wondering, is there something on your mind?" he asked innocently. "You seem a bit distraught."

Skipper sipped his coffee. "I assure you, Private, you have nothing to worry about. Just had some old wounds reopen," he replied, staring at an invisible point in the distance.

"Do you . . . want to talk about it?" Private asked doubtfully.

"Not particularly," Skipper replied, turning back to Private with a tenacious look. "It's also classified."

Private touched the tips of his flippers together hesitantly. "Could you maybe give us the declassified version?" he asked hopefully, his head turned down, but his eyes looking up at him.

Skipper thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Fine. But only to give you three a better understanding," he said.

Kowalski and Rico exchanged a knowing glance. Private was always the only one able to make Skipper bend a little.

The four penguins gathered at the table, Skipper at the head. Skipper thought for a moment as he decided which details should be left out.

"Well, believe it or not," he started, "I used to be friends with that deranged puffin."

"Hans?" Kowalski inquired, his curiosity having instantly been piqued.

"Affirmative," Skipper replied. "We were more than friends—we were brothers. I trusted him with my life, and I would never have believed he would double-cross me had I not seen it before my own eyes. He betrayed me, and in turn, I became a wanted criminal in Denmark." He casually stirred the fish in his coffee. "The end."

"What?" the team protested.

"No, you can't stop there!" Private said, leaning forward on the table as if Curiosity was a physical being resting on his shoulders.

"What did he do?" Kowalski asked, also leaning forward.

"Nope," Skipper replied. "All you need to know is that you should always be on your toes, and always expect the unexpected."

"Aw, please, Skipper?" Private begged. "You know we won't tell anyone!"

"Denied," Skipper replied. "This is one topic not even you can make me disclose," he said, looking cognizantly at his men, as if he'd read their minds earlier.

"Now _that's_ dark, Skipper," Kowalski said, pouting and folding his flippers.

Skipper smiled and raised his coffee mug. "Then I'd say, class dismissed."

**[Words: 999]**


	25. Prompt 25: Happiness 10-19-15

_Happiness 10.19.15_

**Note:** **This installment is rated T for sensitive material. It occurs between the scenes during one of my other works, _Many More Miles To Walk_. I have been working on a sequel to the story on and off for the past year, but I am unsure when it will be made public.**

— § —

Kowalski looked at the test results splayed around his desk as if he could change them just by staring them down. He'd done the calculations multiple times, hoping to find a mistake or something that would miraculously fix what had happened.

He sighed deeply and leaned forward on his elbows, rubbing his temples as his head throbbed behind his tired eyes. This was wrong. It was all wrong. There _had_ to be an error somewhere, but he feared the only error was his belief in that there was an error.

His mind wandered back to when he had to tell Skipper the news. He wasn't sure what stuck more, the deafening silence in his response or the dead look in his eyes. The haunted, frozen stare that passed right through him . . . it was like he could still feel it. As if someone had shoved a frozen javelin through his soul and left it there.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming sense of anger and shoved all the papers to the floor in a rage. _I'm so useless!_ he thought. _I can switch two people's minds, but I can't _fix _one?_

Breathing heavily as his heart rate elevated, he glared at all the test results, feeling the unbearable urge to tear them to shreds. But he forced himself not to. Destroying the results were not going to make them disappear. He knelt and started gathering the papers, trying to ignore what each of them said, but he froze as he reached for one particular page.

Skipper's CAT scan.

That image had been haunting him since the first moment he saw it. That dark spot in the middle . . . why couldn't it have been a shadow? For once in his life, all he wanted was to be wrong. Why couldn't he just be wrong?

He heard a knock at his lab door and pulled himself together as he continued to pick up his papers. "Come in," he called emotionlessly. He heard the tumblers in the door turn as someone opened it.

"Kowalski?" he heard Private's voice say behind him.

"What is it, Private?" he asked without turning around.

"I just wanted to let you know that Skipper fell asleep," Private replied timidly. "It kind of surprised me, but I guess he is pretty exhausted. I think the pain medication helped as well."

"That's good," Kowalski said as he picked up the last paper and stood. He turned to his desk and started organizing them. "He needs rest." A moment of silence passed and he flinched when Private appeared at his side holding a paper.

"This one was under your desk," Private said, handing the paper over.

Kowalski looked from it to Private before taking the paper and staring determinedly at the test results on his desk. He became irritated when he felt Private staring at him. "Is that all, Private?"

Private shifted on his feet. "Actually, I was hoping to ask you something," he asked timidly. "But if you're busy, I'll—"

"No," Kowalski sighed, "I'm sorry, Private," he said, still not looking at him. "What is it?"

Private hesitated. "What do you think Skipper's thinking about?"

Kowalski stared at the wall across his desk as a series of guesses passed through his mind, none of them good. "I don't know, Private," he said quietly, uneasiness creeping into his tone as a lump formed in his throat.

Private hugged himself. "You don't think he would . . . that he would consider . . ."

Although he couldn't finish his sentence, Kowalski caught on to what he was suggesting. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "I don't think Skipper would go that far. He may feel that he'd be better off dead, but I don't think he would take his own life, even under the circumstances." A few moments of silence passed and Kowalski brought himself to look over at the young cadet. He was staring at the papers on his desk with a pained expression, as if it physically hurt to know the results. With how emotionally attached they were to Skipper—their leader, their brother in arms—it kind of did.

Kowalski put a flipper on the Private's shoulder, causing him to tense and close his eyes, hanging his head. Kowalski's heart sunk as he realized Private was trying not to cry. He pulled him into his flippers.

"It's all right, Private," Kowalski said softly, rubbing his back.

"No it's not," Private protested as the tears came.

Kowalski wanted to say something to comfort him, but the words wouldn't come. He sighed and continued to stroke Private's back as his tears stained his chest feathers. "We'll just have to take this one day at a time, Private. That's all we can do."

Private continued to weep and Kowalski forced himself to stay composed. With Skipper out of commission, he had to be the strong one, especially for Private. While he understood why Skipper was acting the way he was, it still irritated him that he disregarded the fact that this had affected everyone, not just him. He wished he could do something to make everyone happy again.

But he knew he couldn't. Everyone in the zoo was like a piece to a puzzle. If one piece became broken or missing, the zoo just wasn't whole. Skipper was that puzzle piece. The question was whether his piece could be fixed so he could fit back into the puzzle.

Until then, Kowalski feared the zoo's atmosphere would remain barren of happiness for a long time to come.

**[Words: 919]**


	26. Prompt 26: Family 12-17-15

_Family 12.17.15_

**Note:** **The following short takes place shortly after the four-minute prelude in the _Penguins of Madagascar Movie_.**

— § —

Skipper groaned. "I think I'm dying . . . How long have we been floating on this death block, Kowalski?"

Kowalski looked at the position of the sun. "About six minutes."

"Really?" Skipper complained. "It feels like it's been _forever_!"

The threesome's newest, youngest member carefully approached Skipper, touching the tips of his flippers together.

"Skipper?" he called softly.

Skipper sat up and looked at him. "What's up?"

The hatchling shifted timidly.

Skipper knit his brow. "Come here," he said, patting next to him.

The hatchling shuffled forward and sat next to him, facing the water. He glanced at Skipper for a moment, and then he looked at the water. Skipper became concerned.

"Hey," he said. The hatchling looked at him. "You can trust me. Okay?"

The hatchling held eye contact for a moment before breaking away. Finally, he said, "I'm scared."

Skipper smiled. "We all are."

The small penguin looked at him again. "Really?"

"Well, yeah," Skipper replied. "Antarctica is all we've ever known. Now we're drifting farther away from it. I can only imagine what you must be feeling. All you've ever known is the inside of an eggshell."

The hatchling locked eyes with him again and nodded.

Skipper patted his back. "You'll see. Things will get better," he encouraged.

The hatchling smiled at him, and then frowned again. Skipper frowned back.

"What is it now?" he asked.

The hatchling looked back out at the water. "It's just . . . I never got to meet my parents. Do you think they're looking for me?" he asked, looking back to Skipper.

Skipper hesitated. He couldn't tell the little guy that the other penguins didn't even care that his egg was rolling away. _It's just nature,_ they'd said. He felt that the odds of his parents trying to find him were slim, but the hurt in the little guy's eyes kept those words inside Skipper's head. He figured that crushing him was a bad idea, but getting his hopes up might be worse.

"I don't know," he said finally.

The hatchling looked down. After a moment, Skipper broke the silence.

"What are you thinking about?" he inquired.

The hatchling glanced at him before fixing his eyes on the water. "I was just thinking . . . I want my parents to be looking for me . . . You know, to care about me. But they'll never find me out here, and that would make them sad. But if they aren't looking for me . . . I'll be sad. It's scary to think I'll have to grow up without knowing my parents."

Skipper didn't respond.

"What were your parents like?" the hatchling asked, looking over at him.

Skipper locked eyes for a second before breaking away. "My mom was killed by a leopard seal while hunting for food for me. My dad was devastated. It was like nothing else mattered, not even the fact that I was all that was left of her. Sometimes I wonder if he blames me for her death. If she hadn't been hunting for me that day, she probably wouldn't be gone. I eventually skipped out because I . . . couldn't take it anymore."

The hatchling looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Skipper looked back at him and smiled softly. "Hey, it's not your fault."

The hatchling winced. "Why do things have to hurt?" he asked.

Skipper shrugged. "I don't know. But the way I see it, when I think about how lonely I felt after I left my dad, I'm happier that I met Kowalski and Rico. They've been the only family I've ever really known since my mom died."

The hatchling furrowed his brow. "So . . . to be happy, we have to be sad first?"

Skipper thought for a moment. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Guys!"

Skipper and the hatchling were jerked backwards by their flippers just as the corner of the ice they were sitting on broke away. The four of them stared at it for a moment as their heart rates settled back down.

"That was a close one," Kowalski commented. "This ice is starting to melt. I'm not sure how much longer we can float out here before there's nothing left."

"Thanks," Skipper said breathlessly. "I didn't even notice. I don't know what I'd do if we were ever separated."

The hatchling looked at the bigger penguins. "I don't even have a name yet."

The bigger penguins exchanged glances.

"Um . . ." Kowalski started, "how about . . . Einstein?"

"Einstein?" Skipper repeated. "What kind of name is that?"

Kowalski shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought it sounded cool."

"How 'bout no," Skipper replied. He looked at the hatchling and thought for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe—"

Before Skipper could finish, a shadow suddenly overcast them and they turned to see a large ship moving past. A human looked overboard and saw them. Then he called out to someone else on the ship and they cast out a net to pull them in.

"Skipper!" the hatchling called, clutching his flipper. "What's happening?"

"Everything's gonna be all right," Skipper said as they were pulled up into the ship. "I think they're just trying to help us."

"What do we have here?" one of the humans said, squatting down to look at them entangled in the net on the deck. "How did a few penguins get way out here?"

"Looks like they got stranded on a block of ice, sir," another one answered.

The man nodded. "We'll take 'em to the zoo on our stop in New York. Private Stroman! Get a crate!"

Upon command, one of the men rushed off.

"A crate?" the small penguin inquired.

"Like a wooden box," Kowalski explained, "to keep us in until we get to our destination."

The hatchling looked at Skipper, who seemed deep in thought. "What's wrong?"

Skipper looked at the hatchling. "Private."

"What?" the hatchling inquired.

"Your name. Do you like Private?" he asked.

He thought for a moment. "Why?"

"I don't know," Skipper replied. "It kind of just spoke to me."

The hatchling smiled. "I love it."

**[Words: 997]**


	27. Prompt 27: Waiting 01-02-16

_Waiting 01.02.16_

**Note: Happy New Year, everyone! My resolution is to try and find more time to write and get things published. We'll see how that works out for me. And, to kick off this new year, here's a Skilene ficlet for your entertainment. Enjoy!**

— § —

"Hey, Skipper," Marlene said, walking up to the penguin leader with a smile. "Are you excited? We only have a couple more hours!"

"Copy that, Marlene," Skipper replied. "It feels like 2012 just flew right by. No pun intended."

Marlene smiled. "I agree. It seems to feel that way every New Year's," she noted.

"Yeah," Skipper agreed. "I guess our busy lives make us forget how short time is."

Marlene sighed. "I hear that." There was a moment of silence before she added, "Can I ask something of you, Skipper?"

"Anything, Marlene," Skipper replied, arching a curious brow. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just wondering . . . This past year, I finally got my feral side under control, and now that I have, I was hoping maybe you could . . . take me to see the ball drop?"

"You mean up close, then? Rather than watching it from a distance on the clock tower?" Skipper asked.

Marlene nodded.

Skipper smiled. "Of course, dollface. I tell ya, it is a sight to see. Wish we could take the whole zoo, but there's one serious complication to that," he mused.

"The fact that people may get suspicious if a horde of animals trapsed through Times Square?" Marlene suggested.

"Well, actually, I was talking about how horrible the traffic would be, but you may have a point with that too," Skipper replied. Marlene rolled her eyes. "Well," Skipper continued, "we'd better get going if you want to find a good spot."

Marlene's brow furrowed. "We're not bringing the rest of your team?"

Skipper waved a flipper. "Nah. They've seen the ball drop up close and personal before. We can go just the two of us. Would that be okay with you?"

Marlene shrugged indifferently. "Sure. I don't see why not," she said with a smile.

And so, the two of them headed to the penguin garage and hopped in the pink car, Skipper at the wheel. He pulled onto 5th Avenue. After a moment, he looked over at Marlene, who was fidgeting with her fingers.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Marlene said, shaking her head. "I'm just anxious."

Skipper smiled at her. "You have nothing to worry about, Marlene. I'll be with you the whole time," he assured her.

Marlene smiled back. Then she laughed. "How do you do that?"

Skipper furrowed his brow. "Do what?"

"Make me feel better without even trying," she replied, looking down at her paws.

Skipper smiled again. "Because you trust me," he responded, looking over at her.

Marlene smiled back. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

Skipper turned back to the sidewalk in front of him. "I'm going to pull into an alley in a minute. The crowd has to be reaching its peak by now. We won't be able to get through by car."

As he'd said, he pulled into an alley about six blocks from Times Square and hid it behind a dumpster. After covering it with newspaper, the two headed for the heart of Times Square on foot.

"How much time do we have?" Marlene asked.

"About an hour," Skipper replied without hesitation.

"How do you know that?" Marlene asked. "You didn't even look at a clock."

"Call it intuition," Skipper said, glancing back at her while they were stopped at a corner. "Trust me, if you'd ever been in a situation where you're locked up for hours, you'd know how to keep an internal clock."

Marlene became intrigued. "I get the feeling the story behind that is classified," she said disappointedly.

Skipper smiled. "Maybe one day I can tell you." He looked around the corner. "The humans are distracted. Stay low," he said, taking her paw and pulling her forward.

After sneaking past the humans all crowded together in Times Square, Skipper and Marlene scaled a building using the grappling hook Skipper brought and found a spot with the perfect view of the Ball Drop on the roof. There was a large billboard sign with a clock counting down from twenty minutes.

"Wow," Marlene said breathlessly. "Everything looks so amazing."

"It's New York, dollface," Skipper agreed. "Of course it's amazing."

Marlene smiled at him. "Thanks for doing this, Skipper."

Skipper smiled back. "Anytime, dollface."

Marlene arched an eyebrow. "Why do you always call me that?"

Skipper blinked as if he was surprised by the question. "Um . . . I'm sorry. I didn't know it bothered you."

"No, it doesn't bother me," Marlene replied. "I was just curious why you do it."

Skipper pressed his beak shut for a moment and shrugged. "It's . . . just a pet name. No specific reason," he said, looking back over at her.

Marlene watched him carefully. "Okay," she said, dropping the matter.

After anxiously waiting another seventeen minutes, Skipper and Marlene got to their feet for the final countdown.

"Here we go," Skipper said eagerly. When the clock hit sixty seconds, he and Marlene started counting down together along with the rest of the crowd.

"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six—"

In the midst of their counting, Marlene gripped Skipper's flipper and vice-versa in anticipation.

"Forty-three, forty-two, forty-one, forty—"

Marlene watched as the humans prepared the ball for its descent and looked at Skipper as their excitement grew.

"Thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty, twenty-nine—"

Marlene leaned forward and Skipper had to hold her back before she fell. They laughed as they continued to count.

"Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen—"

Marlene started to hop up and down impatiently and tried to get Skipper to join her, but he shook his head with a laugh.

"Four, three, two, one—"

The crowd erupted as the ball dropped and confetti rained from the sky. Fireworks popped and exploded overhead and Marlene watched in awe. Then she squealed with delight and jumped into Skipper's flippers. He laughed and twirled her around before he set her down.

For a moment, they locked eyes as the fireworks illuminated them in different colors and confetti landed on their heads, still holding each other. Then Marlene smiled.

"Happy New Year, Skipper."

Skipper smiled back. "Happy New Year, dollface."

— § —

**Note: **I used the year 2012 because that was the year _Littlefoot_ aired, which is the episode in which Marlene overcame her feral side.

**[Words: 999]**


	28. Prompt 28: Innocence 01-12-16

_Innocence 01.12.16_

**Disclaimer:** **MaryRose is an OC owned by GrandOldPenguin. She is featured in his story, **_**Beyond DNA**_ **as well as its short sequel, **_**Operation: Fluffy Pink Sugar**_**. While credit for the idea and writing of this installment is mine, MaryRose belongs exclusively to GrandOldPenguin. In addition, I highly recommend reading both **_**Beyond DNA**_ **and **_**Operation: Fluffy Pink Sugar**_ **if you haven't already.**

— § —

"Ugh! I can't believe this!" MaryRose complained as she dropped into HQ, where Marlene was washing dishes.

Skipper dropped in behind her. "MaryRose, I told you _not_ to go places without telling me first. What if something happened and I had no idea where to even _begin_ looking for you?" he challenged, folding his flippers.

MaryRose rolled her eyes. "Dad, nothing's gonna happen to me. I can take care of myself."

"MaryRose, you're fourteen years old. Even _I_ could barely take care of myself at that age," Skipper argued, shifting his flippers to his hips. "I don't want to hear any more about it. Go to your bunk."

"But, Dad—!"

"Don't '_But, Dad!'_ me," Skipper interrupted. "Go on."

MaryRose sighed heavily and climbed into her bunk, turning over to face the wall. Skipper sighed and crossed the room to Marlene.

"Where was she?" Marlene whispered.

"In the park," Skipper replied, "with Archie's kids again. I wish I could get her to understand why I don't trust them."

"Well, that was a long time ago," Marlene replied. "How do you know he's still untrustworthy? Kids can change a person, y'know."

Skipper started to dry the dishes Marlene washed. "I highly doubt that, Marlene. A leopard doesn't change his spots."

"Really?" Marlene said. "You did."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "That's different."

"How?" Marlene challenged.

"It just is," Skipper insisted. "Whose side are you on? Our daughter is out following a bunch of delinquents and you're acting like _I'm_ the bad guy."

Marlene handed him another dish. "I'm not on anyone's side. I just think you should talk to her. You tell her what not to do without telling her why. If I told you not to do something, wouldn't you want a reason?"

"No," Skipper argued. "I would trust your judgement because I love you."

Marlene sighed. "Skipper, I'm sure MaryRose trusts your judgement just as much as I do, whether she admits it or not. I just think there's some miscommunication here."

"What part of _don't hang out with them_ is hard to understand?" Skipper shot back.

Although she was finished with the dishes, Marlene kept the water running to drown out their voices. "Skipper, why is it so hard for you to go talk to her? She's your daughter. It shouldn't be like pulling teeth to get you to have a little one-on-one with her."

"Because I'm her father and she should just listen to me," Skipper persisted. "First it's this, then she's dying her feathers and piercing her beak. And then she's addicted to herring!"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Skipper, _you're_ addicted to herring."

"That's not the point," Skipper argued.

"Skipper," Marlene said before he could continue, "you know what I think your problem is? You're so used to having your team follow your every command without question that you forget MaryRose _isn't_ some member of your unit. She's your little girl. Exceptions need to be made."

Skipper looked down to try to find a response, but couldn't. He sighed and looked across the room at MaryRose.

"All right," he said, giving in. "I'll go talk to her."

Marlene smiled. "Good. I'll go topside and make sure the boys don't interrupt. They're out taking some security precautions, per Kowalski's order."

Skipper nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Marlene turned off the faucet and stepped forward to kiss Skipper on the cheek. "Good luck," she whispered before heading to the hatch.

Skipper exhaled. Then he pushed a cinder block next to MaryRose's bunk and sat down. After a few moments of awkward silence, he started.

"Look . . . I know I'm not the best at communication," he said, watching MaryRose. She didn't move. "I've been running my unit for a couple decades now. When I give an order, I expect it to be followed without question. And, well, sometimes I forget to turn that side of me off with you," he admitted. He waited a moment, but she remained silent. "When . . . you were just a chick, there was a time I thought I'd lost you forever." He felt his heart wrench at the memory, but buried the feeling. "The thought of not having you in my life broke my heart. I couldn't stand the thought. I couldn't even _begin_ to tell myself to let you go. Then, by the grace of God, I didn't have to. I found you right where I'd left you."

MaryRose didn't turn over, but in a small voice, she asked, "Where was I?"

Skipper smiled. "In my heart."

Slowly, MaryRose flipped onto her back and stared up. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Skipper replied, "I want you to know that when I tell you to do something, it isn't me trying to control your life or keep you from having fun or whatever you think I'm doing. I do it because I love you and I want you to be safe. If I trusted those kids, I wouldn't be quite as upset. Although I still need to know where you are." He folded his flippers. "I know you won't fully understand how I feel until you have your own children—_way_ in the future," he said with a half-joking smile, "but you don't know what goes through my mind when I think something's happened to you. Just thinking what _could_ happen drives me mad. I'm sorry if I get a little overprotective at times, but it's just that I love you more than you'll ever know. Do you understand?"

MaryRose was silent for a few moments before she sat up on the side of her bunk and nodded. "I think so," she said softly. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Skipper smiled and pushed off the cinder block, kneeling down in front of her. "You don't need to apologize, sweetie. Just know that I tell you things for a reason. Okay?"

MaryRose nodded. "Okay," she said. Then she wrapped her flippers around his neck. "I love you, Daddy."

Skipper hugged her back. "I love you too, MaryRose."

**[Words: 998]**


	29. Prompt 29: Horror 02-07-16

_Horror 02.07.16_

"All right, team," Skipper said into his radio. "Good work. I'm returning to HQ."

After jumping down from atop the Zoovenir Shop, he started toward HQ after a long afternoon of surveillance. But prior to leaping into his habitat, a scream came from Marlene's. Dropping the radio, he leapt into her habitat and dashed into her cave.

"Marlene!" he called. "What's the trouble?"

Marlene stood on her bed, holding her Spanish guitar like a bat and scanning the floor.

"It was right there! I saw it!" she screamed.

Skipper, still in combat position, awkwardly scanned her habitat. There was nobody there except the frightened otter. "Saw . . . what, exactly?"

Marlene shifted as if she feared answering his question more than what had originally frightened her.

"Uh . . ." she started, gripping her guitar tighter.

"Marlene?" Skipper inquired, relaxing his stance. He approached her. "Something's obviously spooked you. What is it?"

Marlene timidly ran her paw along the neck of the guitar. "Well . . . there was . . ."

"Was . . .?" Skipper urged.

Marlene sighed, lowering her guitar. "A spider . . ." she admitted.

Skipper tried not to smile and cleared his throat. "A spider."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "I don't like spiders, okay?"

Skipper shook his head. "You don't have to explain yourself, Marlene," he said. "Where did it go?"

"I tried to get it myself, but then it . . . moved," Marlene admitted quietly. "I panicked and got up here. I didn't see where it went."

Skipper searched the floor. "Well, it isn't in this direct vicinity. Why don't you come down from there?" he asked, offering a flipper. Marlene checked the floor over for herself before taking it and stepping down. She glanced at him and rolled her eyes as she folded her arms.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, looking down.

Skipper smiled. "Marlene, you don't have to be embarrassed. There are a lot of people with a fear of spiders."

"I don't have a _fear_ of spiders," Marlene argued, shooting him a look. "I just don't like how they look at me with their beady little eyes."

"Okay," Skipper said, holding up his flippers. "You're not afraid of spiders. By the way, it's right there."

"Where?!" Marlene screamed as she dropped her guitar and jumped into Skipper's flippers. She scanned the floor to see it devoid of spiders.

"I'm sorry, Marlene, I couldn't resist just one," Skipper said, laughing.

"Put me down before I strangle you," Marlene said. Skipper set her down and she shoved him before turning away with her arms folded.

Skipper sighed and tried to meet her eye, but she turned away from him. "Marlene, I was just messing around."

"Well, I didn't find it very funny," Marlene snapped. "If you think I'm a fool for being afraid of spiders, just say it, but don't make fun of me."

Skipper felt a pang of guilt and his smile faded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It was insensitive. And I don't think you're a fool."

Marlene scoffed. "Please."

Skipper pressed his beak shut for a moment. "Hey," he said softly, "look at me. Please?" Marlene sighed and looked sideways at him. "I'm sorry."

Marlene studied him for a moment. She sighed again. "Fine. I forgive you, but . . . you just don't know how it feels to have such a trivial fear that people would make fun of you for if they found out you had it."

She watched Skipper as he broke eye contact and studied the floor.

Marlene's brow pinched. "Do you . . . ?"

Skipper folded his flippers and shifted his gaze across the room. "No."

Marlene put her paws on her hips. "You're lying."

Skipper looked at her. "I am not."

"Then look into my eyes and tell me you don't have a trivial fear of _something_," Marlene challenged.

Skipper put his flippers on his hips. "Fine," he said, looking dead into her eyes as instructed. "I . . . do not have a trivial fear," he said, looking down at the floor through the last few words.

"Ha!" Marlene exclaimed, pointing at him. "You can't do it. What is it?"

"Classified," Skipper said, folding his flippers.

"Come on," Marlene urged. "You know my fear. If you don't tell mine, I won't tell yours."

Skipper studied her for a moment. "Fine," he said, giving in. "But only because I hold the utmost confidence in you that this will not leave this cave."

Marlene traced an X over her heart. "I cross my heart and hope to die," she said, holding her paw up with a satisfied smile.

Skipper nodded and narrowed his eyes. "Mm-hm. Yeah, you're cute." Marlene snickered. Skipper rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "I . . . have a fear of, uh . . ."

"Of . . . ?" Marlene urged.

Skipper mumbled his response.

"Oh, come on. Just say it," Marlene urged.

Skipper groaned and threw his head back. "It's needles, okay?" he said, looking back to her. "I'm afraid of needles. There, I said it. It's over. We're done. End of discussion."

"No, no, wait," Marlene said, holding up her paws. "_Needles_?" she repeated, genuinely shocked. "Of all things, you're afraid of _needles_?"

Skipper, his flippers still folded over his chest, stared at her bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Marlene said, laughing. "That was just completely unexpected."

"So is your fear of spiders," Skipper shot back.

Marlene shrugged. "Touché." Then her eyes widened and she looked around. "Wait, where is the spider?" she asked, suddenly realizing it was still somewhere in her cave.

Skipper's eyes widened as he saw exactly where it was—on Marlene's back. "Uh . . . Marlene? How 'bout stop moving?"

Marlene froze. "W-Why?"

Without taking the time to explain, Skipper grabbed the large spider from Marlene's back by its abdomen. "Got it."

Marlene turned to him and her eyes locked on the spider. She gulped as it wriggled its legs.

"That was . . . on m-me?" she choked.

"Well—" Skipper started, but he didn't even get to finish before Marlene fainted. Skipper pressed his beak shut and looked at the spider. He frowned. "You really do have beady little eyes . . ."

**[Words: 1000]**


	30. Prompt30: Are You Challenging Me 2-15-16

_Are You Challenging Me? 02.15.16_

**Note: This shot is dedicated to icy-water17 and his little brother, who requested it from me. I hope you like it and that I didn't disappoint you.**

— § —

Tense.

That was the only way to describe the atmosphere in the HQ. They'd recently returned from a mission to thwart Hans' latest scheme, which hadn't gone as planned.

"Skipper," Kowalski called as Skipper violently prepared his bed for the night. Kowalski rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Skipper snapped, turning to face him. "I'm _not_ the one being _ridiculous_. I had things under control. Private should've let me handle it."

"Skipper," Kowalski argued, "you were out of commission. You were discombobulated after Hans caused those chemicals to explode in your face. I'm just thankful they weren't deadly."

Skipper rolled his eyes. "I was fine."

Kowalski sighed impatiently. "Why can't you just own up to the fact that Private acted well. You should be proud of him."

"Because _I_ am this unit's CO," Skipper shot back. "_I_ command the missions. Private was out of line. Because of him, Hans escaped."

"However," Kowalski started, "we stopped him from taking anything from the lab _and_ got out alive. With Private's quick thinking, I'd say the mission was a success."

Skipper exhaled. "Hans escaped. That is _far_ from a success. If I'd have run it, we would've caught him."

"You couldn't even _see_ him!" Kowalski argued.

Before either of them could continue, Private dropped into HQ. Skipper straightened and faced the wall, folding his flippers in stubborn silence. Kowalski sighed.

"Skipper," Private said stoically as he passed by.

"Private," Skipper replied, mimicking his tone.

Kowalski exhaled. "Really, you two. I'm not speaking for just myself when I say this is getting frustrating," he said, folding his flippers. "Now, I'm going to tidy up my lab before we turn in. When I return, I expect you two to have made up."

Without waiting for a response, he entered his lab and shut the door behind him.

Private stood a couple feet away from Skipper, folding his flippers and facing the other direction. He looked at the floor and traced an arc with his toe.

"So," he said, "I suppose we're still not talking."

"_You're_ talking," Skipper snapped.

Private sighed irritably. "I still don't understand what the big deal is. When you were hit, the plan had to change. You weren't able to fulfill your part in your condition. I saw an opportunity and I seized it."

"The plan would've worked," Skipper argued, looking at him. "You just didn't have faith enough to try."

"Faith's got nothing to do with it!" Private fired back, turning to face him. "You had the most important role in the plan! Kowalski, Rico, and I had our own tasks. Each of us was vital to making the plan work. Without you, we had to come up with another strategy. Why is that so hard to understand?"

Skipper shook his head. "I don't understand why _you_ don't understand that we _had_ Hans. We were _this_ close!"

"How would _you_ know?" Private challenged. "You were blinded!"

Skipper grunted in frustration and threw his flippers up. "You know, I'm sick and tired of all this sass you're giving me lately!"

"Well, what happened to admiring my moxie?" Private shot back, spreading his flippers.

"You have too much moxie, that's the problem!" Skipper replied, pointing an angry flipper.

"Well, my moxie is what got us out of that lab alive!" Private argued.

"No, it's what got _Hans_ out alive!" Skipper persisted.

"Fine!" Private snapped, catching Skipper off guard. "You're right! It's all my fault Hans got away. The mission was a complete failure and so am I. You'll have my resignation first thing in the AM." He turned around and went to the table, where he sat down and folded his flippers.

Skipper stood in his spot, completely unprepared for that response. With a sigh, he went to the table and sat next to him. "Private, I'm sorry," he said softly.

Private didn't respond at first, but then he said, "Aren't I the one that's supposed to be sorry?"

Skipper pressed his beak shut, suddenly feeling guilty for the way he'd been acting. "Private, I don't want you to resign."

"Then what _do _you want?" Private urged.

"I want—" Skipper stopped short and sighed. "Look, Private. The truth is . . . I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at _me_."

Private reluctantly looked at him. "I don't understand."

"When I was blinded, I . . . felt helpless. I was _so close_ to finally getting Hans, and he had to pull something like that. I felt that . . . _I_ had failed. When you took over so quickly and easily, I . . . became resentful. You did what I was unable to do at the time. I guess I . . . needed someone to blame. It was _my_ fault Hans got away."

Private softened. "I'm not following. A minute ago you were yelling at me and angry at what I had done, and now you're . . . this."

Skipper sighed. "I guess, in a sense, I wasn't expecting you to give up that easily. Arguing with you was like an outlet—a poor one, I'll admit. But I guess I felt I needed it to cope with the fact that . . . I'm actually very proud and impressed with you for how you handled the mission when I was taken out. I guess in arguing with you, I could get you to chide me for being the weak link in the mission so I wouldn't have to do it myself," he said with a sideways smile.

Private smiled back. "Well, if that's all you wanted, all you had to do was ask," he joked.

Skipper laughed. "Hey, I was still a vital part of the mission."

"But I'm the one that defeated Hans," Private argued, all in fun.

"Well you're gonna be the distraction on the next mission," Skipper said, his inflection rising.

Kowalski, who had come in at the tail end of Skipper's sentence, sighed. "Really? You two are _still_ arguing?"

Skipper and Private looked at each other, and then they started laughing.

Kowalski stood in the doorway to his lab, completely dumbfounded.

**[Words: 997]**


	31. Prompt 31: Foreign 02-24-16

_Foreign 02.24.16_

"Morning, Nari!" Marlene said one morning, excitedly nudging her habitat-mate and adoptive sister. "Come on, wake up!" she urged, eager to get out in the Monterey sun.

Nari stretched her arms and legs with a yawn as she sat up. "Marlene, the morning will still be there in ten minutes," she complained with a smile.

Marlene laughed and pulled her arm. "Don't be a wimp! Come on! Let's go for a swim!"

The two went outside their cave-like room out into the California spring morning, Marlene at the lead while Nari lagged behind. Marlene dove into their pond while Nari sat at the water's edge.

Marlene surfaced. "Come on, Nari! Wake up!" she said with a laugh.

Nari yawned again. "You kept me up until three o'clock in the morning! I have, like, zero energy right now," she said.

Marlene narrowed her eyes mischievously and dove back under the water. A moment later, she grabbed Nari's leg at the water's edge and pulled her under. Both of them resurfaced a second later, Marlene laughing her tail off while Nari sputtered water.

"Marlene!" she complained, splashing water at her.

"Are you awake _now_?" Marlene asked, still laughing.

Nari grunted in frustration and pushed Marlene's head under the water. Marlene reached up and pulled Nari down with her. After a few minutes of play-fighting, they both surfaced to catch their breath.

"You're insufferable!" Nari said, shoving Marlene away from her with a smile.

Marlene laughed and floated on her back, staring up at the clouds. She really loved it here at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Little did she expect that her time here was running out.

"Okay, so which one are we taking?" a voice said from beyond their habitat.

Marlene and Nari looked up to see their zookeeper at the edge of their habitat with some man.

"The Asian Otter," the zookeeper replied. "The Central Park Zoo wants her by tomorrow. They paid good money for her. I trust that you'll make it happen?"

"Yes, ma'am," the man said. "I'll go get my truck."

The two then left the habitat while Nari and Marlene just watched them in shock.

"What did they just say?" Nari said.

"I think . . . I think I'm being transferred," Marlene said, her voice choking with fear.

"No," Nari said, putting a paw on her shoulder, "there has to be some misunderstanding here."

"I don't think so!" Marlene cried. "They said they wanted the _Asian_ Otter! You're a River Otter! Nari, they're sending me away!" She hugged Nari tight. "Don't let them take me away!"

Nari hugged Marlene back. "Marlene, I'm not sure if there's much I can do," she said doubtfully. Then she sighed. "But I'll try my best for sure."

When the zookeeper and the man returned, Marlene had retreated back into the cave while Nari stood at the entrance, bracing herself for a fight. The zookeeper entered their habitat with a catch pole and the man followed behind her with the shipping crate.

"You listen here, zookeeper lady!" Nari said, pointing a finger at her. "If you want to get to Marlene, you're gonna have to go through me—_ah!_"

Before she could even try to prevent what was happening, the zookeeper darted Nari with a mild tranquilizer. While she didn't fall unconscious, she was too weak to even try to move. She watched helplessly as the zookeeper reached into the cave with the catch pole and, after several failed attempts, caught Marlene in the noose. She came out kicking and screaming as they put her in the crate.

"No!" Marlene cried. "Nari! I don't want to go! Don't take me away, please!"

Nari reached out a weak paw, but it just fell limp to the ground again. Marlene, now in tears, pounded at the sides of the crate as they closed the lid.

"No! Please don't take me away!" she cried again. She felt herself being loaded onto the truck and heard the doors shut her inside. She leaned against the side of the crate, bawling to herself.

Monterey Bay had been her home since she had been born twenty-four years ago. She never knew her parents since they were separated at birth, but Nari was there. She was only three years older than her, and the two had become inseparable. It was as if they had come from the same womb, despite the age difference. Nari was there for her when she was just a pup, afraid of the new, large world around her. Now she was going who-knows-how-far away, where she would never see Nari again. She didn't even get to say goodbye. They didn't give her the time. They didn't care. They only cared about _themselves_ and their _own_ selfish aspirations.

Marlene suddenly felt a pang of anger. The humans had no right to do this! She had feelings too! But no, that didn't matter. She was just an otter. If someone wanted to buy her, she had no choice but to go wherever the humans so desired. Now she was going to some dump called the "Central Park Zoo," where she would have to get used to some new environment that she knew nothing about and perform for a different kind of crowd. She may as well be sent to a foreign country—everything would be different and confusing to her. She would have to get used to new habitat-mates. Or would she even have habitat-mates? She may even have to live alone. All by herself. With no friends. She broke down in tears again, feeling that her life had just gone down the drain while she remained powerless to stop it.

If only Marlene knew what exciting new adventures she would soon have and wonderful new friends she would soon make.

**[Words: 962]**


	32. Prompt 32: Kick in the Head 03-03-16

_Kick in the Head 03.03.16_

**Note: This installment is humanized. It's a silly improv idea I thought of and I randomly decided to turn it into a little ficlet.**

— § —

Marlene sat at one of the chairs at a beauty shop, waiting for her stylist to come. She looked through a magazine that showed a bunch of women with various styles of hair, occasionally looking into the mirror and imagining herself with a particular one.

"Ooh, girl! Look — at — you!" a woman said as she came to her side, fluffing her hair a bit. Her nametag read Tange and she had a thick, nasally Brooklyn accent. She had to be around seventy years old.

Taking the exclamation as a compliment, Marlene smiled. "Oh, thanks, I —"

"Just look at this rat's nest on your head," Tange continued. Marlene frowned and blinked in shock, completely caught off guard. "Donchu worry, honey. We'll fix that right up for you. You'll be beautiful in _no_ time!"

"Um . . ." Marlene said, looking around awkwardly. "Thank you?"

"So, what style are you thinking?" she said, looking at her magazine over her shoulder.

"Well, I liked this one," Marlene said, pointing to one of the women in the magazine.

Tange gasped and took the magazine to get a closer look. "Oh, that one's beautiful!" She looked at Marlene and frowned. "But not on you. Pick something else," she demanded, shoving the magazine back into Marlene's hands.

Marlene, although a bit distraught by the woman's attitude, just kept her opinions to herself and flipped through the magazine while Tange fiddled with her hair.

"You know, I had hair like that once, but the day I decided to perm it, I knew I was never going back. You ever thought about a perm?" she asked.

Marlene internally groaned. She didn't care for perms, at least not on herself. Much too poofy for her taste. She put the magazine on the counter.

"You know," she said, "I think I'll wait a while longer before changing my hairstyle. I'll just have you trim it for today." She couldn't wait to be done here so she could find a place with better service.

"You want me to _trim_ it?" she asked, as if astonished by the request.

Marlene nodded. "Yes. That's all I want."

Tange sighed. "All right. I guess that's better than doing nothing," she said, looking at Marlene's reflection distastefully. Marlene bit her tongue.

Marlene just tried to relax as Tange proceeded to trim her hair. She rambled on about her life story as she did so, but Marlene just closed her eyes and tuned her out, trying to focus on the music that played throughout the shop, muttering "mm-hm" every now and then to make it seem like she was paying attention.

Finally, Tange turned her around so she faced her reflection.

"There we go! Perfect," she said, admiring what she labeled as her handiwork.

Marlene's eyes widened as she took in her appearance. "Oh my God! What did you do to my hair!" she exclaimed, running her fingers through it. It was nowhere near her style, and definitely _not_ what she'd asked for. It looked like something out of an eighties movie.

"Darling, I don't know what you're complaining about. You look _fabulous_," Tange said, folding her arms.

"This is _not_ what I asked for! What kind of stylist are you?" she asked, turning to Tange with her hands still on her hair.

"Stylist?" Tange inquired. "I'm not a stylist. I just work the cash register. You were the one to ask me to cut your hair. I just thought you didn't really care about how you looked, if your hair didn't make that obvious enough. That ain't my fault." She turned to walk away. "Some people can be so rude."

Marlene stood there, a dumbfounded look on her face. What the actual hell!

At the last second, Tange turned back. "Oh, and by the way, your total's forty-two fifty."

**[Words 634]**


	33. Prompt 33: Stripes 03-16-16

_Stripes 03.16.16_

**Note: This installment contains implied Skilene. Perceive it as you will.**

— § —

". . . and I want Rico on aerial surveillance," Skipper said to his team down in the HQ. "Private and I will scout the ground. We'll —"

"Hey, guys," said a voice from behind, causing the team to instinctively jump into combat position. Marlene flinched and held up her paws. "Whoa, guys! It's just me."

Skipper relaxed his stance and rolled his eyes. "We've already told you. You're not authorized to just drop down here without permission. We are in the middle of a _classified_ meeting," he said, folding his flippers.

Marlene sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I was just wondering if I could ask something of you."

Skipper arched a brow. "Do something for you? We are an elite unit. Not some kind of on-call help service to go around running errands for you."

Marlene looked offended. "Well, excuse me. I know we've only known each other for a couple of months, but you don't have to go on acting like I'm some kind of nuisance."

Skipper sighed. "We're a little busy. Can't it wait?"

Marlene hesitated. "Not particularly," she answered quietly.

"And what could you possibly want that can't wait until later?" Skipper asked with another roll of his eyes.

Marlene looked at the floor as if ashamed of herself for even asking for anything at this point. "Food," she answered quietly. Before Skipper could retort, she said, "Alice threw spoiled oysters into my habitat for dinner. I haven't had anything to eat since noon. I know you guys are into the whole commando thing, so I figured you were my best bet to get into the storage room."

There was a moment of strained silence before Marlene locked eyes with Skipper.

"But if you're so busy, I guess I'll just go figure something else out," she snapped before turning on her heel.

"Wait," Skipper called, holding up a flipper. Marlene turned back. Skipper shifted awkwardly, feeling a bit guilty for the way he'd spoken to her. "I'm . . . sorry. I'll help you." He turned to Rico. "Crowbar," he ordered. Rico regurgitated his desired item and Skipper started heading for the hatch.

"Do you want us to come along, sir?" Kowalski asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"No," Skipper replied over his shoulder. "I'll take care of this one."

Skipper and Marlene started heading over to the storage building in strained silence. After a few minutes, Marlene spoke up.

"Why did you agree to help me?" she asked.

Skipper looked at her for a moment, and then turned back to the path ahead. "I wasn't about to let you starve. I'm not a monster, y'know," he answered.

Marlene winced a little. "I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I was just . . . frustrated because . . ."

"I was being difficult?" Skipper suggested.

Marlene was taken aback. "Um . . . I guess you could put it that way."

Skipper shrugged a little. "It would be ignorant and self-centered for me to say that I'm not difficult. All you wanted was a little something to eat and I nearly sent you away without knowing even that."

Marlene was surprised at how calmly he was taking this — she was stricken speechless. They reached the storage building and found a window.

"Wait here," Skipper instructed before flipping onto the windowsill and cracking the window open with the crowbar. He looked down to Marlene. "I'll be back in a min —"

Marlene hopped up onto the windowsill next to him in a similar fashion and he stared at her for a moment.

"Nice," he commended before hopping down into the building.

"What?" Marlene said, joining him. "Women don't have moves as good as men?"

Skipper searched around for the box marked _Otter_. "No, you just didn't strike me as the athletic type," he replied.

Marlene assisted him in the search. "Well, I'm usually more of a swimmer."

"Well, there's one thing we have in common," Skipper said, glancing back at her for a moment.

Marlene arched a brow. "Did I detect a smile?" she asked. "I didn't think you were capable."

Skipper arched a brow at her. "That's because I don't smile until the job is done successfully."

"Well, then," Marlene replied, "maybe you should be a little more flexible." She continued looking for her crate.

Skipper studied her for a moment but didn't respond. "Here it is," he said, pointing to her crate. He hopped on top of the crate next to it and pried it open with the crowbar. Marlene joined him.

"These look fine," Skipper said, examining a few of the oysters. "Take as many as you need." He stood and turned on his heel, preparing to leave.

"Wait," Marlene called. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

"Well," Skipper started, "I said I'd get you food, and I have. What else do you need?"

Marlene shrugged and looked down. "Nothing, I guess. I'll — see you later, then. Thanks for helping me."

"No problem, Ms. Marlene," Skipper said with a salute and a small smile. He turned on his heel and prepared to jump off the crate but stopped in his tracks. He looked back over his shoulder at Marlene, who was collecting oysters and cradling them in her arms. He sighed and waddled back over to her. "Hey," he said softly. She looked up at him. "I give you my authorization."

Marlene brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

"If you ever need anything," Skipper continued, "I give you my authorization to enter our HQ."

Marlene suddenly felt touched. "But . . . why —"

"Call it a gut feeling," Skipper interrupted. "I think you can be trusted."

Marlene's eyes widened. "You're gonna let me in on _classified_ information?"

Skipper laughed. "Whoa, now. Hold on, there, Dollface. You haven't earned your stripes on that just yet. Just don't ever hesitate to drop by."

Marlene smiled. Unsure of what to say, she just said, "Thank you."

Skipper smiled back. "Don't mention it."

**[Words: 976]**


	34. Prompt 34: Two Roads 03-27-16

_Two Roads 03.27.16_

**Note: This shot is dedicated to GearSolidSnake, who requested it from me.**

— § —

"Rico!" Private called softly.

He stopped when he noticed light coming from storage. Furrowing his brow, he hopped up onto the windowsill for a closer look.

A dim light emanated from behind some crates. There were shadows — figures that moved along the walls. He tried to make out the shapes. His breath caught as he made out Rico's mohawk. He pushed the window open and climbed inside.

He thankfully made it through without making any noise. Low voices drifted around the stack of crates, but he couldn't discern them.

Carefully, he crept alongside the crates. Holding his breath, he peeked around the corner. His beak fell open as he assessed what he saw.

There was a lamp nearby with no shade, providing light for the card-players seated in a circle: Rico, Bada, Joey, and Julien.

Julien laid down his cards. "Three-of-a-kind."

"Two pair," Bada huffed irritably.

Julien smiled at Rico. "Well, flightless waterbird?"

Rico smiled back and showed his hand.

"What?!" Julien cried. "Flush! Man, this game's a ripoff," he complained, throwing down his cards and folding his arms as Rico pulled the pot toward him.

Private involuntarily gasped and the four players looked in his direction.

"Hey!" Julien cried. "It's the tiny penguin!"

"He's spying on us!" Bada added, preparing to stand.

Rico stood and gestured for everyone to calm down before heading toward Private.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a string of gibberish.

"I noticed your bunk was empty!" Private replied. "So I came looking for you. You know Skipper strictly forbids us to gamble with real money!"

Rico blew raspberries and waved a flipper. "Ah, it's just a friendly game," he said. "Wanna join?"

"Join?" Private exclaimed. "Are you mad?"

"Ah, c'mon," Rico urged, putting a flipper on his shoulders. "This could be a chance to get the money you need for that new doll thingy you wanted."

Private looked at Rico, then at the players, and then at the floor. He _did_ really want the new Lunacorn doll set with the matching accessories. But Skipper said they were on a tight budget and needed to spend their money on important things. He wanted it so bad he'd even considered stealing one at one point, but reverted because he knew that wasn't the right way. This wasn't quite as big of a deal as stealing, was it? But Skipper still forbade it . . .

"Well?" Rico said, growing impatient.

Private swallowed and looked at the other players.

"We don't have all night, butterball," Bada commented.

"But I don't have any money," Private said timidly.

"Ah, I'll give you some, buddy," Rico offered as he led him to the others. "Don't even have to pay it back."

"How generous . . ." Private mumbled as Rico sat him down between himself and Joey.

"Welcome to the game, penguin," Joey said as Rico slid fifteen bucks in front of Private, mostly in change.

Private looked skeptically between them. "Where did you get all this money?"

"Oh," Julien started, "humans drop their shiny money all the time. We've been saving for months for just this occasion!"

Private narrowed his eyes at Rico. "So you've known for months that you were going to disobey Skipper?"

Rico shrugged and dealt the next hand. Private sighed and picked up his cards, feeling guilty all the while. He shouldn't be doing this. How was he roped into this?

Everyone started placing bets and drawing cards. Each time Private placed a bet, he could hear Skipper in his mind, scolding him for disobeying. "Rico, I understand," he'd say, "but you?" He could practically feel his flipper making contact with the back of his head. All he had to do was fold and pretend it never happened, but there was about twenty-something dollars in the pot — enough to buy the Lunacorn doll set, the matching accessories, _and_ the _Sharing is Caring_ coloring book. It was just a game, right? It's not like anybody was getting hurt.

At last came the final bets. Joey bet twelve, Rico and Julien both went all in, and Bada folded. Private hesitated. He had a pretty good hand, but he had nine dollars left. That was a little over half the money he needed for the doll set. He could probably save up the rest soon. Then he looked at the pot. Imagine all the Lunacorn merchandise he could buy with that much money! Biting his tongue, he pushed all of his money into the pot.

"Ooh! The little penguin waddles on the wild side!" Julien exclaimed. "I like it."

Private tried to feel complimented but instead felt even more guilty.

"Full house!" Julien said, showing his hand with a grin.

"Aw, man!" Rico exclaimed, throwing down his cards. "Straight . . ." He got to his feet and said he was going to bed.

"Oh, I've been had," Joey grumbled, not revealing his hand.

Everyone looked at Private, who sat dumbfounded.

"Ha!" Julien said. "I win!" He started gathering the pot when Private lowered his cards and he froze with his mouth hanging open. "What?!"

Everyone stared at Private's hand.

"How do you end up with four tens?!" Julien screamed in outrage. "You cheated!"

Private started to smile. "Luck, I suppose," he said as he started gathering the pot. "Well, thanks for the game, boys, but I think —"

"Private!"

Everyone turned to see Skipper standing a few yards away, folding his flippers over his chest.

"You're _gambling_?! With _real_ money? You know I don't allow that!" he scolded, grabbing Private by the flipper and hoisting him to his feet.

"Wha — I mean — Rico! He —" He turned to where Rico had been sitting and remembered that he'd left.

"Oh, real smooth, Private. I would've understood more if it were Rico, but I just saw him in his bunk. I'm very disappointed in you," Skipper said, dragging him away. "We'll discuss this in the morning."

Private opened his beak to respond, but decided against it and sighed. Come morning, Rico was _dead . . ._

**[Words: 995]**


	35. Prompt 35: Breathe Again 04-10-16

_Breathe Again 04.10.16_

"Thanks for this, guys. I really appreciate it," Max said as the penguins prepared to leave.

"No problem, Moon Cat," Skipper replied. "We hope your new home works for you. You know where to find us if you need anything."

"Just across town," Max replied affirmatively. "Got it."

"Let's head home, boys," Skipper said as the four of them climbed into their pink car. Rico pressed on the gas but had to brake suddenly when a van zipped by, heading east.

"Whoa, they're in a hurry," Private observed.

"Wasn't that a news van, Skipper?" Kowalski inquired.

"I believe you're right," Skipper replied. "Rico, tail that van."

Rico obeyed and floored the gas, taking off in the direction the van had gone. After turning a couple of corners, the penguins gasped at the sight ahead at the end of the street. There was a building on fire, and the wind was causing it to catch the nearby establishments. The fire department was already on the scene, trying to extinguish the flames as soon as possible.

The penguins parked off to the side where they couldn't be seen and looked over the scene. Suddenly, a woman ran by in a panic.

"Symphony!" she screamed. "Symphony, where are you!" She grabbed a passing fireman. "Have you seen my daughter? She's only three years old!" The fireman shook his head and told her to check with the paramedics. The woman ran off, continuing to scream her child's name.

"Skipper, you don't suppose Symphony is inside the burning building, do you?" Private asked, putting his flippers over his beak.

"But why wouldn't the firemen have found her yet?" Kowalski asked.

"I don't know," Skipper said, "but we need to find out."

"But, Skipper, the building is unstable! It could collapse any minute!" Private said. "We don't even know if she's in there!"

"All the more reason to take action," Skipper insisted. "I couldn't live with myself if that little girl died today because we were to chicken to do anything. My gut says she's in there. We have to help."

"I agree," Rico grunted.

"Let's move out," Skipper ordered.

The penguins stealthily made their way past the onlookers and rescue workers. They scaled the building next to the burning one.

"Rico, give us some protection," Skipper ordered once they reached the roof.

Rico regurgitated masks for all of them.

"All right," Skipper said. "Rico and I will go in and you two wait out here in case we need backup."

With that, Rico and Skipper leapt onto the roof of the burning building, careful to watch where they stepped. They dropped into the first floor and looked around, flames lapping at the walls and making the floors creek.

"Any sign of her, Rico?" Skipper asked over the sound of the roaring fire.

Rico shook his head and they ventured deeper into the building, their hearts pounding for fear that the building would collapse any minute, but they pressed on.

They dropped through a hole in the floor to the lower level, where the flames were even worse. Listening carefully through the roar of the fire, they heard coughing. They followed the sound to a closet, where a little girl was hiding in a dark corner, coughing from the smoke and sobbing in fear. Rico and Skipper approached her and she eyed them curiously.

Rico regurgitated a fireproof blanket and the two of them pulled the little girl to her feet and wrapped it around her. They then walked back into the room, where a piece of the ceiling fell and crashed through the floor. The girl screamed.

"We need to get out of here, now!" Skipper said.

The two of them quickly navigated around the room, trying to avoid the flames and debris, Symphony in toe. They brought her to a window, where there was a fire escape just outside. Skipper went out first and Rico pushed Symphony through the window as Skipper helped guide her out. They rushed down the stairs as the building started to cave in, causing the fire escape to lurch. Symphony screamed again as she lost her footing and grabbed onto the railing. Private and Kowalski noticed them from above and dropped down to help.

"We have to hurry!" Private said as the four of them rushed her down the rest of the stairs. They all hid under the fireproof blanket as the building finally collapsed. They could feel the heat and debris hitting the other side of the blanket, but they didn't move until the vibrations stopped.

Skipper peaked under the blanket. There were flames approaching them, so they started pulling Symphony forward, away from the building. Once they were a safe distance away, they slipped away and hid under a nearby stationary vehicle. They watched as the girl stood and looked around, wondering where they'd gone.

"Symphony!" the woman from earlier called. She fell to her knees at her daughter's side and hugged her tightly, crying out profusely in fear and relief. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"Mommy, you're hurting me!" Symphony complained.

The woman loosened her grip on her daughter and looked at her face, cupping her hands over her cheeks. "Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?"

"No, Mommy," Symphony replied. "The penguins saved me!"

The woman's brow pinched in confusion. "Who?"

"These penguins came and saved me!" Symphony repeated.

The woman picked up her daughter. "Maybe we should get you some oxygen, darling," she said, turning toward the paramedics. She froze as she noticed something in the distance. Four penguins were standing at the corner of a building across the street, watching her. After a moment, they saluted her and disappeared around the block.

The woman thought for a moment. "Maybe we both need some oxygen."

**[Words: 961]**


	36. Prompt 36: No Time 07-14-16

_No Time 07.14.16_

"Maurice!" Julien cried from his throne.

Maurice trudged up to him, not even trying to hide his contempt. "Yes, your majesty?"

"I need another smoothie," Julien said, propping his head up with one paw while rubbing his chest with the other. He coughed and wheezed. "I can feel my time approaching . . . so make it with extra mango for the extra sweet-y-ness-ness . . ."

Maurice rolled his eyes. "You said your time was approaching two days ago," he said.

"Well, how should I know, _Maurice_? I am not Clair's Voyage!" Julien said before coughing again.

"It's clairvoyant . . ." Maurice grumbled under his breath as he approached the blender.

"Maurice?" Mort called softly as Maurice proceeded to make a smoothie.

"Yes, Mort?" Maurice sighed.

"What are we going to do when King Julien is" — Mort gasped — "the _d-word_?" he asked as he gripped his tail and whimpered.

Maurice rolled his eyes. "Mort, he's not gonna die," he said, dropping another mango into the mixer.

"But, Maurice, he's so sick!" Mort cried softly. "Do you think there's a cure?"

Maurice groaned under his breath again. "No, there's no cure, but it'll pass."

Mort sniffled. "How do you know?" he asked, on the verge of crying.

Maurice sighed impatiently. "Because he _doesn't_ have a life-threatening illness," he insisted.

Mort gripped his tail tighter. "Then what is it? What makes him cough and sneeze and wheeze so much? If it has no cure then how will he be healed?" he asked, whimpering.

"Maurice!" Julien cried from the throne, his voice even more nasally when he yelled. "What is taking so long with my smoothie? I could be dead before you come back!"

_Correction,_ Maurice thought, _you'll be dead _when _I come back . . ._

He turned the blender on and turned to Mort. "Look, Mort. I promise you, Julien will be fine. He's just being a drama king. Why don't you go score some more cough syrup from the zoo hospital, hm?"

Mort looked over at Julien, who was writhing in his throne, and winced. "Okay," he said before hurrying off.

Switching off the blender, Maurice returned to Julien with his smoothie. "Here you are, King Julien," he said, handing up the smoothie.

Julien sniffed. "It's about time," he said impatiently. "I thought I saw a light for a minute there."

Maurice rolled his eyes. He swore he was getting close to being able to see his brain back there. "That's because you stared at the sun for ten minutes and now you're seeing spots."

"Oh," Julien cried out after a sip of the smoothie, "so now your some kind of doctor, hm? What do you know?" he said, sipping some more of his smoothie.

"No, but it doesn't take one," Maurice argued under his breath.

"Hey, lower mammal!"

Maurice turned as Skipper and the penguins hopped over their wall carrying Mort. "You wanna explain why Sad Eyes was trying to break into the zoo hospital by digging under the wall?" Skipper asked, holding up the small lemur.

Maurice slapped his palm to his forehead. After taking a moment to gather himself, he looked back up. "He was supposed to be getting some cough syrup for our terminal king," he mumbled.

"Terminal?" Kowalski inquired. "What on earth does he have?"

Julien writhed in his throne again. "A ghastly disease! A disease to end all diseases! An illness most fatal! I may not live to see another sunrise!" he cried, dramatically holding his arm up and looking into the sky.

Maurice took a deep breath. "What he _means_ is . . . a cold. He has a cold."

**[Words: 596]**


	37. Prompt 37: Tears 01-12-17

_Tears 01.12.17_

**Note:** Hey, guys! Bet you all thought I forgot about this. College life has been off to a stressful start, so I've been neglecting my writing to deal with it. Nonetheless, I will continue to update as I can. This semester has been a lot easier so far so I'll do my best. Happy (very late) New Years and Happy (early) Valentine's, everyone!

**This short takes place following _The Big S.T.A.N.K._**

— § —

Skipper held pressed his flippers to his temples as the stress of the situation skyrocketed. Why couldn't it just end?

Kowalski leaned closer to Private. "Betcha five bucks he won't last another minute."

Private thought for a second. "I'd take that bet if I didn't believe that."

Julien continued laughing, doubling over from the pain in his side. "Big blubbery baby Skippy! Do you need a pacie? Hahaha!"

Skipper grunted angrily. "Ringtail, I swear to all that is good and fishy, if you don't shut up, I will _personally_ build another S.T.A.N.K. just for you and I will _not_ save you from it!"

"Hahaha," Julien laughed, "look how he threatens me. He's so cute!"

"Ringtail!" Skipper snapped.

"It's okay!" Julien insisted. "I am still cuter." He giggled. "Baby."

"_Manly_ tears, Ringtail!"

"Big. _Blubbery_. Baby," Julien repeated, folding his arms over his chest, a cocky sideways smile on his face.

With a frustrated grunt, Skipper prepared to advance, but Kowalski stepped in between them. "Okay," he said loudly, "looks like it's time to turn in. Been a very long day. We will see you all in the morning." He dragged Skipper toward the hatch.

"Okay," Julien said, Maurice tugging on his arm, "make sure the bossy penguin wraps a towel around his pillow so he doesn't get it wet tonight!"

Before Skipper could say or do anything, Rico and Private tackled him into the hatch. Kowalski sighed heavily before jumping in after, closing the fishbowl over the hole.

Skipper clenched his fists. "There's gonna be one less lemur in this zoo."

Kowalski pulled out his clipboard and started to write something.

"What are you doing?" Skipper demanded.

"Oh, I'm just tallying how many times you've said that this year," Kowalski said.

"What?" Skipper snapped. "When did you start doing that?"

Kowalski counted up the standing tally. "Four hundred seventy-six times ago," he answered.

Skipper narrowed his eyes. "Well, _one_ of these times I'm gonna make that happen."

"Oh, Skipper," Private chimed in. "We all know that's not true."

"Uh-huh!" Rico agreed.

"You know you would never be able to go through with it," Kowalski said, stashing his clipboard and pencil away.

Skipper exhaled.

"Plus you know deep down you would miss him if he was gone," Private added, folding his flippers.

"Whoa, now," Skipper replied quickly, holding up his flippers, "saying I couldn't go through with it is one thing, but I would _never_ miss that over glorified product tester for Avon."

"How long have you been waiting to use that one?" Kowalski asked, staring at him through half-lidded eyes.

Skipper folded his flippers. "Too long."

"But, Skipper," Private started, "if you really wouldn't miss Julien if he were gone, what were you crying about?"

"I was not crying!" Skipper insisted again. "I was upset because of all the ways to go, of all to people to go _with_ . . ."

"Uh-huh," Private replied, "and not a shred of sadness that you thought you failed at saving him?"

"Not even a sliver," Skipper persisted. "I only did that to a) save Central Park and New York from the S.T.A.N.K. and b) because Ringtail's whining was getting on my nerves."

The other penguins exchanged a look.

"It's settled then," Skipper said before any of them could respond. "Lights out, men."

Deciding it best to drop it, the penguins prepared to turn in. A few minutes after being in bed, a voice broke into the silent darkness.

"Skipper?"

A sigh followed. "Yes, Private?"

"Under what circumstances does a tear become manly?" he asked.

Silence followed for about thirty seconds before, "When they're mine, Private. Now go to sleep."

**[Words: 610]**


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